The Cloak
by Light of the Eldar
Summary: The Cloak is very possessive. Stephen just never knew how much…. A collection of one-shot ficlets featuring Doctor Stephen Strange and his lifelong friend, the Cloak. More delightful Fluff and hurt/comfort to come! Rated T for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Its Chosen

**A/N: Okay, so I recently watched the movie Doctor Strange and got bit by the fandom bug. Now i'm trying my hand at writing some fluffy and exciting stories of my own that will also be containing some sweet hurt/comfort as well :D For those of you who read my other stories, don't worry I haven't forgotten about 221B Baker Street, but for now I'm enraptured in 771A Bleecker Street ;)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Marvel or Doctor Strange. This work is merely for entertainment purposes, not for profit or gain.**

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Chapter 1: Its Chosen

~S~

Stephen Strange peeked his eyes open. Though he was unpleasantly surprised as a ray of sunlight from the adjacent window hovered right over them.

 _He must have forgotten to draw the curtains closed in his exhaustion from last night, Stephen thought blearily, raising a hand to stop the slight sting so he could survey his surroundings._ The cloak was in its usual place, hanging up in his closet (or more accurately, floating there).

The doctor turned over in his bed, not wanting to wake up just yet even though he knew and felt he should. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

With a groan, Stephen reluctantly left his warm bed to open the door for his friend Wong who stood by the entrance with a tray of breakfast in his hands.

Stephen gave a distasteful look. "You do know that I can make my own breakfast, right?"

Wong shook his head. "We've had this conversation many times before Stephen and you know fully well what my answer will be." The librarian replied smoothly and let himself in, casually moving toward Stephen's bed.

"Yes. And your answer is always the same. I need to be guarding the New York Sanctum, not playing chef," he spoke in a deadpan voice, ignoring Wong's slightly crucible expressions. "But I still don't understand why I can't cook something for myself occasionally…" Stephen muttered to himself.

Wong to a glance to the door before answering. "Now that you are the Sorcerer Supreme, you have other duties that lie beyond your domestic ones. Protecting the Sanctum is more important." The keeper gave him a serious look, which on his particular face came off as more endearing than anything.

Strange nodded.

Wong said nothing more, placing the tray on the bed before leaving.

The Sorcerer Supreme sighed heavily as if the weight on his shoulders would dissipate the harder he expelled air, before walking into the bathroom.

He came out a few minutes later wrapped in a towel and his hair dripping wet, before heading towards the closet to grab his clothes.

The cloak, without warning, swiftly jumped onto his naked shoulders.

"What the- get off," Stephen ordered, trying hard to pull the immortally strong garment off him.

But the cloak wasn't relinquishing its place on his shoulders. "I'm not at the Sanctum yet," Strange added in an attempt to talk some sense into it. But even with all the struggling and shouting, all the cloak did was press itself harder to him.

Stephen was suddenly raised into the air, causing the towel around his waist to fall to the ground.

"What are you doing! I need to get dressed!" He shouted in a more quizzical voice than an angry one.

The cloak then surprisingly drifted toward the closet, bringing him within an arm's reach away from the closet so he could at least wrestle his pants and shirt from their hangers before he was ripped away a second later.

Stephen made a silent prayer while he was " _getting dressed in mid air"_ that Wong or his replacement wouldn't check in on the New York Sanctum and see him floating naked from the console. He finally managed to fully dress himself, sighing.

He finally managed to fully dress himself, sighing.

The doctor was familiar with a variety of the cloak's _needs_. It hated water, it always knew when Strange was in trouble or hurt and nothing was able to stand in its way when that happened. Plus, the cloak always seemed to be the most comfortable and content when it was on Stephen's shoulders. Why the cloak possessed all these human-like qualities continued to be a mystery to him. Though, what was worse was that now he was dressing in mid air contemplating that reason.

Before Strange could contemplate any more on the subject, a projectile smashed through the glass and impaled itself through 2 shirts before hitting the wooden back of his closet.

The cloak seemed to freeze in time. Stephen's breaths stopped altogether for approximately five seconds.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion, including the fractured shards of glass drifting soundlessly through the air below him. He'd heard about near death experiences before from patients under his care. They would mention the world around them slowing to almost a standstill before a split second of agony and then darkness shrouded their awareness.

Stephen spared a look to the cloak, after-which, began to lower him down slowly and hesitantly to the floor. He turned towards the gaping hole in the glass of the window and moved over to the closet to survey the damage as well as examine the projectile.

It was about 2 feet long and the entire length of it was covered in sharp spikes that were barbed at the ends. There seemed to be a combustion tube in the end that served to propel the object through the air as well.

The Cloak of Levitation lifted itself off of Stephen's shoulders, shaking off the water from Strange's back, obviously uncomfortable with the element.

Stephen saw the cloak's distress and grabbed his towel from the bedroom floor before pulling the cloak down to him and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He then proceeded to gently wipe off the water.

The cloak settled in his lap, deflated and unmoving to make it easier while its chosen worked to dry off every remnant of water.

Stephen now understood why he had been so abruptly levitated. The cloak had sensed the projectile coming and acted expeditiously to save his life from what would have been a painful death.

He owed the cloak his life, once more.

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 **A/N: So, did I pull it off?**


	2. Chapter 2: Hurt

**Wow! I'm really flattered by the support you've shown this young ficlet. Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites :D I never expected such a response :P Now, here's some sweet hurt/comfort to keep you happy ;) Enjoy!**

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Chapter 2: Hurt

~S~

An icy wind swept through the streets. In Stephen's hands, he held a catatonic cloak that would shiver or flutter every so often which served to worry the doctor more and more as he fumbled with his sling ring, trying his best to calm his mind for the device to work. But it was hard after what happened….

Strange had busied himself with isolating a very astral creature that came through the astral plane and designated its first act on arrival, to terrorizing people. Strange used the Eye of Agamotto to wipe their memories of its existence though he had a feeling many of them wouldn't forget the man in the red cape that rushed away. Needless to say, the creature hadn't gone down without a fight.

Strange curled into himself, groaning and clutching his leg after the creature had busted his femur and a few ribs, towering over him with shark-like eyes as if assessing if its prey was fit to eat while grasping none other than Stephen's cloak in its long, razor-sharp claws.

Strangely enough, Stephen thought he saw his cloak shiver with fear as though vulnerable to whatever powers the creature possessed. And boy did he wish he'd been wrong.

No amount of screaming, spells, or cursing did anything to help, and he was forced to watch helplessly as the creature tore at the cloaks fabric, viciously slashing and slicing causing the cloak to squirm and writhe in what appeared to be…. pain.

But whatever it was, the actions of his faithful cloak broke his heart and gave him inhuman strength and will that caused the eye of Agamoto to release a powerful bright pulse that exterminated the hell-like creature where it stood, leaving nothing behind but smoking ash.

The cloak, now lying still on the ground, was savagely disfigured and no longer held a velvety shine to it anymore, but instead, it had changed to a murky dark red.

It was now or never. Thankfully he had the weapon of time.

Stephen sat himself up as much as he was able and opened the Eye. He then set to turning it back 10 minutes before he got injured and kept a copy of it on his wrist in case he was destroyed.

He waited with anticipation as his body disappeared. But after he materialized, he realized defeatedly that he still retained his injuries and the cloak was still in pieces.

Of course, being the stubborn man he is, he didn't give up any time soon.

However after about the 10th attempt, his strength had worn out and so he collapsed, clutching his chest.

 _It must have been the planet,_ Stephen thought as he crawled along the ground, his teeth gritted, breaths carefully measured to cause the least pain as he tried to reach the cloak. He finally managed to grasp a tattered strip of it and pulled the entire cloak to himself setting it in his lap.

Stephan ran his hand along one of its torn edges, eliciting one of the cloaks flaps to lean into his hand from the motion as if he was giving comfort to it by the contact.

Stephen gave a tight smile at this and continued this motion along the middle shreds in which the cloak started wrapping itself around his hand as if it was scared, but at the same time it almost seemed to be mindful of its injuries and taking precautions not to squeeze too tight.

"I'm going to get us out of here," he promised, his voice tight and rough from too much use as he stared around at the purple specks floating in the air, sometimes catching the light from a source somewhere and shining from the inside. He then turned his attention to the cloak again, focusing on relieving as much of its pain as he could.

 _Pain._ Stephen had never seen the cloak react that way before, or seen it hurt before now, so the concept and possibility it could happen came as a shock. Not to mention the idea that his cloak could feel what happened to it was also unsettling him logically. But he supposed logical had disappeared as soon as he met the ancient one and hadn't been back except for rain-checks.

The cloak abruptly went limp, catching his attention in an instant.

"Cloak?" He jostled it gently hoping for it to stir.

But nothing happened.

"Ookay, this can't possibly be happening. We're not really here stranded on this planet. We're back at the Sanctum sitting in a chair and drinking coffee by a warm fireplace and you're with me like some overgrown house cat lounging in my lap." Stephen let out a strangled laugh and squeezed his eyes shut at how pitiful and devoid of happiness it was.

The cloak had almost turned a sooty grey color, only small remnants of red remained now. Stephen held his chest to keep the ribs from shifting more out of place. "Who's going to watch my back and keep me company when you're gone? Please don't leave me to Wong's dances to _Single Ladies._ Without you chasing him away he'll constantly mess with my studying."

The entirety of the cloak then turned black in his hands.

The reality really was that his lifelong friend was dead. He began to sob silently.

...

"Mr. Strange."

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To be continued….


	3. Chapter 3: Comfort

**A/N: Alright. I feel like I want to snuggle fifty warm blankets right now after writing this! :D But seriously, there are no words amazing enough to describe how awesome you all are and I will be replying to each and every one of your reviews very soon. I'm also sorry about the lateness of this chapter, as I promised a few people I would update this morning. But life dealt me one. Anyway, love to you all, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Warning: Extreme Fluff! Also Cloak!Whump**

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Chapter: 3: Comfort

~S~

Strange jumped at the voice, wincing as his ribs cried out in protest from the movement. He craned his head towards the source, but finding no-one, he turned back to see the Ancient One standing a foot in front of him, clad in the same golden robs.

"How can you be here? I thought you died?" Strange croaked.

"Only my physical form died. My ethereal form lives on." She looked up into the vastness of space before meeting his gaze again. "Do you want to know why you can't turn back this precise moment?"

"I thought it had something to do with this planet," Strange replied."

"You are partially correct, but there is another element that is preventing you."

Stephen raised a brow. "What?"

"The cloak."

Stephen snorted weakly. "What do you mean the cloak is preventing me, the cloak's dead. How can a dead thing do anything?" The last words seemed to cut him.

The ancient one spoke."Whether the cloak is dead or not doesn't matter. The cloak has had one specific purpose since its creation. To defend your life at all costs. And to accomplish this there needed to be a way of making it immune to the effects of time or it could be controlled by another."

"So the reason time wasn't changed here was because of the planet and the cloak's power to withstand the Eye of Agamotto?" Strange asked.

"Yes. As well as many other artifacts of time known and unknown," she replied, calmly.

"So did you just come here to tell me that or-"

She smiled. "No, I came here to do this…"

The ancient one knelt down and lightly pressed her hand against his chest. A glow emitted from her palm and extended to Strange.

Stephen let out a sharp breath as he felt his ribs gluing themselves back together as well as his femur, though the pain was thankfully numbed as more power coursed throughout his body until it disappeared completely as his body was fully repaired, leaving behind a warmth in its place.

The ancient one withdrew her hand from him, straightening up again.

"So why didn't you do that sooner?" Strange breathed, not all there yet. Truthfully he felt like he could go to sleep from the comforting sensation still ebbing at his senses.

The ancient one just smiled, the words of Stephen already noticeably expected. "You had to believe I was real first. You had to be ready," she said softly.

"That figures," Strange muttered quietly to himself.

"I took away your pain so you could think clearly."

"Think. Think about what?"

"You are a doctor, Mr. Strange. You have had many cases where you've brought patients who were previously presumed dead back to life. How was this accomplished?"

"Through a steady hand and patience as close to perfect as humanly possible." He paused as if thinking things over more thoroughly. "But you don't actually believe that I can bring the cloak back to life do you? It's not a person. I can't just open it up to see what's wrong and what to connect or dislodge or cut out to make things work again."

She walked closer to him. "I don't see why not. This might not come down to brain surgery, but you have the knowledge and practice to suture wounds. There are your wounds doctor." She pointed towards the cloak.

Strange looked incredulously at her. "You can't be serious! I'm stranded on a planet with absolutely no medical supplies to treat so much as a paper cut, much less a bunch of deep cuts and slashes." He waved his hands through the air to punctuate his point. "A needle and thread can't fix this."

"No, you're right. Only magic can stave off the damage that's been done now."

Strange stared at the ground before fixing his gaze on hers. "What do I do?"

"Focus on what the complete picture looks like and concentrate on extending your power just enough to coax its essence to life. You will need to leave this place in order to begin stitching the tears, but doing this will at least numb the pain from the severs in its corporeal form."

He held up a hand. "Wait, so it does feel pain?"

"Not in the same way that you do, but if its corporeal form is harmed in any way, the cloak feels a sensation that is like pain, but cuts much deeper."

"Okay, I understand." The doctor took a few deep breaths.

"Here goes then."

Stephen gently laid his hands over the cloak and closed his eyes, concentrating on willing his energy into the fabric to wake its essence. Though, to be perfectly honest he didn't hold out too much hope for that to happen.

"Patience."

He heard the steady voice of the ancient one over his shoulder. It helped ground him.

Patience. He found himself repeating the simple word more and more. From the time he had been wheeled into the third surgery for his hands, to training in new spells. Now, he was healing a piece of fabric with his own energy.

No, that is wrong. The cloak was more than just a superficial piece of cloth that completed his wardrobe and made him look good. The cloak had become his friend, the subject of his sentient, which Strange didn't think he would ever experience except with his patients or his brief relationship with Christine. Stephen's musing were brought to an end when he felt velvety fabric brush against his hand.

He looked down to see one of the cloaks flaps was snugly folded over it and was overjoyed.

"Hey! I guess you're feeling better," he said, animated.

The cloak answered by fluttering happily.

Stephen then frowned, deep in thought. "Uh, listen, this is just a temporary fix. I still have to fix the tears in your… _corporeal form._ But we need to get back to the Sanctum in order to do that. Are you strong enough for me to carry you there?"

The cloak flapped a few times, which Stephen took as a yes.

Stephan scooped his hands under the entirety of the cloak and started to rise to his feet before the cloak went well, crazy. The cloak started flapping and wriggling and squirming in his hands like it was on fire.

"Whoa, what's wrong? You want me to put you down?" Strange asked.

The cloak gently pressed a part of itself to Stephen's chest, causing the doctor's brow to furrow at the gesture before relaxing a moment later. "Oh! You're worried about my injuries."

The cloak answered with a few flaps.

"Don't worry, I'm not hurt anymore. The Ancient One healed me." He looked behind him expecting to find his teacher, but she was gone. The corners of his mouth turn upward into a small knowing smirk before he pulled out his sling ring.

With the cloak safely tucked in the opening between his chest and his arm, Strange created a gateway to the New York Sanctum and stepped through without a moment's hesitation.

When Strange walked out of the ring, he was standing in the middle of the street. An anthem of car horns sounded, along with strings of curses and other profanities.

"Hey, take your costume party somewhere else you freak!"

Stephen pivoted toward the car behind him, glaring at the man behind the wheel, but saying nothing in response before walking out of the way onto the sidewalk.

This wasn't right. He had specifically visualized the inside of the Sanctum, not a 20 minute run from it. Something on the planet must have interfered with the gateway.

The cloak shivered in his arms.

Strange made the decision to run the rest of the way to the Sanctum to deter any more probable malfunctions with his sling ring and took off running. Whispering assurances to the cloak.

But 20 minutes was a long way and with each passing minute he felt further away from his destination than closer to it. He would have to try the sling ring. It was the fastest method home.

An icy wind swept through the streets. In Stephen's hands, he held a catatonic cloak that would shiver or flutter every so often now which served to worry the doctor more and more as he fumbled with his sling ring, trying his best to calm his mind for the device to work.

A gateway soon formed, golden sparks flying off around its circumference. Strange crossed his fingers as he walked through it once more to be pleasantly relieved when the inside of the Sanctum unveiled around him, the warm air from the hearth surrounding them cozily.

Stephen spared a glance to his cloak beginning to uncurl away from his arm, almost looking like it was... stretching.

"Yes, fireplaces are good for cold weather," Strange said with a small smile, as he laid out the cloak flat against the dinning room table, careful not to brush his hand against the tender tears in the cloaks fabric.

Strange knew that the cloak trusted him completely, as it kept itself still for him to work.

It did make him a touch more nervous though.

Shrugging the butterflies away, Stephen raised his hand to hover above the garment, giving one last exhale for good measure before closing his eyes. With his photographic memory, he made an identical reference in his mind of the problem areas, laying them out like an algorithmic jigsaw puzzle with highlighted missing pieces. A few required extra care which would be dealt with after the more superficial tears.

The stitching itself was another thing entirely, that is if he even managed to pull it off.

" _Focus on what the complete picture looks like and concentrate on expelling your power just enough to coax its essence to life. "_

The ancient one's word played back with clarity, filling the gaps in his reasoning.

Expelling power, just enough. Coax its essence back to life. Strange repeated the words in his mind, the solution becoming visible. He saw it now. The tendrils of the cloaks essence could be repaired only one possible way. Not by extending his essence and slowly stitching the tears with imperfect precision that may or may not fit into place, but by recreating and rebuilding what was torn out using the original moldings. That was the only way to ensure the closest perfection.

Strange opened his eyes and concentrated on seeing the cloak's corporeal form with his inner sight. It proved hard at first, but soon something came into focus.

It was Breathtaking...

So many bright colors streaking through an atmosphere of what looked like billions of small energy sparks packed so tightly together that it looked like an endless galaxy of stars. Strange's mind drifted as he thought of what the complete picture would look like if his ability were more advanced, but he shook himself out of his untimely daydreaming and concentrated on finding the inflicted flaws.

Sure enough, he spotted several holes, spaces where there was no light connecting certain parts further on. There was only one thing left to do.

Strange spent the next 10 minutes, creating and molding essence into the exact forms where it was torn, the cloak only fluttering a couple of times when the numbing power of Strange's essence wasn't enough to hold back all the pain or when Strange made an error in construction.

Finally, it came down to just one more repair.

The doctor moved his sight closer past a few floating energy particles. The damage was great.

A space of about two feet separated from the rest of the cloak's corporeal form. This repair would be far more painful than any of the other three.

Strange swallowed hard. He temporarily zoomed out and removed his sight from the cloaks corporeal form, casting his sights on its physical form. He felt pride swell in his chest as he saw that nearly all the tears had disappeared. "I find it only fair to warn you." He spoke gently, which immediately roused the cloak to lift itself up a few inches off the table as though it was _watching him._

Strange cleared his throat, then continued. " _This last repair is going to hurt... a lot. But I'll work as quick as I can, alright?"_

The cloak dropped itself down to the table again.

Strange rubbed his hand over the cloak soothingly, regretting what he was about to do next.

The cloak leaned into the touch just like before, but this time he felt little tremors wrack its form. The cloak was scared.

This was undoubtedly the worst part of being a doctor. To have no choice in the causation of pain when necessary. "It's alright," he soothed, "I'll be gentle." His voice was a low rumble as he ran his hand one last time over the cloak before it fell back to his side.

Readying himself, he raised his hands and opened his sight once more. "I'm going to start… now." he warned, giving the cloak time to prepare before he started the mending.

He waited a full minute before starting...

The cloak suddenly arched itself upward off the table, flapping wildly and trembling hard as Strange worked.

The reaction elicited nearly made Strange stop, but he thought better of it, knowing that in the long run, a short time of agony was better than experiencing it in increments which would only prolong the suffering. So instead, he kept at it, working as fast as possible and trying not to think about what horrible positions the cloak had contorted itself into.

About halfway through repair, Strange felt the cloak wrap itself tightly around one of his arms, which seemed to calm it a little, as the thrashing and trembling diminished.

...

Finally, he was done. It was over and Strange fell exhausted into the chair beside him. Worn out mentally and physically, he slept.

When he woke up around 2 in the morning, he felt a warmth covering him. The calming sensation that it produced was almost enough for him to fall back to sleep had he not curiously cracked an eye open to see the cause.

His cloak must have floated over sometime in the night because it had draped itself over his chest, snuggling into him. Stephen smiled softly and shut his eyes.

"I'll find a way to make this all up to you. Promise."

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 **A/N: Be honest… You didn't think I could really kill the Cloak did you?**


	4. Chapter 4: The Promise

**A/N: Again, I'm speechless at the amount of support and motivation you guys are giving. Your reviews make my day and are just the cherry on top of the giant fandom cake :D College has prevented me from updating sooner than 3 today, but that's just the way it goes until the weekend I'm afraid. Anyway, this chapter follows along with the last, but after this they will continue on their own verse. Also, the memories of what happened will still be in Stephen's mind so these memories won't vanish if you're wondering.** SkyHighDisco-new, **I will keep your idea in mind for future chapters:) Enjoy!**

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Chapter 4: The Promise

~S~

Stephen woke up the next morning, fully refreshed and hungry. Careful not to… _wake_ the cloak- an odd enough thought to be having in the morning. He carefully started to wriggle out from underneath his sleeping garment.

But was it really sleeping? Stephen found himself questioning that one line every day now. When it came down to it, Stephen's logical mind wouldn't give into the possibility no matter how many times he pondered it. He saw it one way. If an artifact was created to defend his life, then the benefits of not needing sleep would aid the cloak to better protect him in case he had any nightly intruders intent on harming him.

His stomach rumbled, coaxing him to put this thought on the back-burner. After some careful maneuvering and the use of a few pillows, he managed to slip out from the bed and into the bathroom to take a quick shower, before heading into the kitchen where he set to making some toast and coffee.

Wait… Bed? _Wong must have moved us from the chair during the night, Stephen mused, but decided he was_ _grateful for the intervention._ The chair he had collapsed into wouldn't have given him a good night sleep, but instead, achy muscles and a back that would feel like he'd gone a round with Black Widow. Yeah, he was never doing that again. At least, not without padding.

The kitchen itself was nearly spotless when he got there, but Stephen still found signs of Wong's early breakfast regime. It was an observation game he would play with himself some days.

The toast jumped in the apparatus a few minutes later and Stephen slathered butter on it before setting it on a plate, his coffee soon joining the arrangement on the dining room table.

There he sat for the next 5 minutes.

When he finished and turned to get up, he found the cloak floating beside him about knee-height. And Stephen swore that it was _pouting._

He raised an eyebrow at its behavior, pouting being a new development.

"Look, you were asleep."

Was that really right though? Did the cloak sleep? He definitely needed to monitor that more closely.

"I didn't want to wake you." The word felt awkward on his tongue. Plus the fact that he was apologizing to the cloak for leaving the bed like it was some relationship spat. What was happening to him?

The cloak's collar lowered more.

Stephen stayed strong. For about 5 seconds.

"I apologize," the doctor blurted out. "Now can you please stop making that… face at me…" he grumbled, still keeping his eyes on it.

The cloak seemed to be happy with this and perked up, floating over and settling down on his shoulders.

Stephen frowned. "Was it you who left that message on the bathroom mirror?"

The cloak almost seemed to shrug.

The writing sounded an awful lot like Wong, considering the it was all in capital letters.- Wong was still getting a hang of the English language. But upon hearing, or seeing the cloak confess to scribbling it up just ruined his whole thought process. This was also a new development, writing notes. Though he supposed it wasn't too farfetched considering the ends of the cloak had a point that was a suitable replacement for a finger.

 _Wait, what am I saying!_ Stephen mind-shouted, too enraptured to remember that he had thought it not said it. _The important and apparently overlooked detail was cloak didn't have a brain so it wasn't possible._ Yes, now his gears were turning in the _right_ direction.

The cloak sensed his discomfort and folded its collars inward towards Strange's neck, eliciting a muscle to tense before it relaxed.

Stephen snapped out of his mental reverie, shrugging as he became aware of a familiar sensation.

He used to think the cloak was infatuated with his neck, but as time passed it turned out that the cloak was just as crazy for his arms, hands, legs, or toes. Why toes? Well, Strange hadn't really got to the bottom of that yet. Of course, he had his suspicions that as long as the cloak had any kind of bodily contact it was content. Though, his chest seemed to be a favorite warm-spot, and only _his_ chest. The cloak had never shown the same affection with Wong or Christine.

The doctor recalled the Ancient One's words on the planet. " _The cloak has had one specific purpose since its creation. To defend your life at all costs."_

Strange was chosen. That had to be it.

Revisiting the brief memory brought another one to the surface, a painful one.

"How are you feeling?" Stephen asked, filling the stretch of silence. As much as he wanted to blot out the entire day yesterday, he knew he should check on his friend's progress. Yes, friend sounded sane. He was friend's with a magical piece of fabric. …. Okay, perhaps he still needed some time before saying that… or thinking that again.

Upon hearing the question presented, the cloak flew into the air and did a few playful backwards somersaults before landing on his shoulders again.

Strange chuckled. He'd take that as a good sign.

"Stephen."

Strange turned his head to find Wong trotting up to them, the speed of his steps denoting the urgency of his message.

"What is it?" he asked, standing.

"There's an intruder in the city. I saw an alien being with long legs climbing up the Empire State Building. It looks like a beetle, but it's the size of a car. And by my calculations it will reach this Sanctum in an hour."

Strange's features hardened. "I'll be there immediately."

The librarian replied with, "I will act as your replacement and guard the Sanctum in your place."

Strange started walking out until he felt the absence of the familiar weight on his shoulders. He paused, turning around.

The cloak was freely floating a few feet behind him, unmoving except for the small oscillations of upward and downward movement as it hovered.

Stephen furrowed his brow. He tried to manually pull it with him. _It didn't end well._

He almost felt like he was running on a hamster wheel or caught in a morphed reality by Kaecilius again. Why the cloak was being so stubborn eluded him. He turned back frustratedly at it. "Why are you slacking? It's time to go."

Stephen spared a glance at Wong, but one look told him he didn't possess any answers either to the perplexing problem. He turned back to the cloak with a look of determination.

"Then I guess I'll just have to go without you."

Strange started walking away, smirking at the brilliance of his wit. The cloak had been created to defend his life, so if he threatened to go alone Strange knew that the cloak would have no choice but to come along. Albeit, it wasn't very nice, but when the city was in danger those measures had to be taken in spite of a garments preferences.

Strange peeked around him to find the cloak, gladly following behind. But to his surprise its collar was down and it looked like it was moping through the air slowly, not bothering with the sweet human contact the cloak seemed to crave on a daily basis. Something was definitely wrong.

But how was he going to find out what that was?

Then it occurred to him. Grabbing a sheet of loose-leaf paper and a pencil from the drawer in the dining room table, he motioned the cloak to come over before placing the paper flat. _"Forget everything you think you know."_ Strange heard the faint whisper in his mind, but chose to ignore it.

Stephen spoke, simply as he fixed his eyes on the cloak. "Write with that pencil what you want to tell me."

The cloak curled one of its flaps around the pencil and began to write out the message: You promise you would make up for huting me

The garment then proceeded to turn back to Stephen who was exchanging shocked looks with Wong. Finally, the cloak had both of their attentions.

Stephen had looked paler than the cloak had ever seen him. Well, except for that one occasion.

Strange exhaled, then blinked a few times.

How the cloak was able to write in nearly perfect English was astonishing, but the pang of underlying misery shone through the words on the page and Strange remembered that he had promised the cloak to make up the previous day. So, the city was going to have a guardian of a different ranking defeat the threat this time. Wong was his doable replacement.

Wong gave him an expectant expression. "You're still going right? You don't think you're really expected to keep a promise to your artifact. I mean, let's get serious here…"

It was very serious. Wong hadn't been there during the painful procedure his _artifact_ had gone through, so he couldn't begin to gauge the importance of what Strange had promised. Perhaps there was another reason why he didn't want to go other than the obvious library incident.

Strange observed that the librarian was slumping against the side of the table, mouth set grimly like a student called to go to the black board. His eyes were also darting around the room, sometimes to the cloak other times to Strange. Wong was scared, but of what?

Stephen needed to boost his confidence, just like he had done once with the new intern that had worked under his supervision.

The intern would watch closely, learned techniques at a fast rate and had an impeccable bedside manner that far outweighed his own, but even with all this, he had very little faith in his own abilities which allowed a wider margin for error.

The right words in mind, Strange spoke. "Wong, you are experienced enough to eradicate many threats to this city and the one climbing that building you mentioned is superficial. It will be easy for you to defeat it without me." He ended with a positive and hopeful tone.

The librarian's voice was quiet, hesitant. "Stephen, I'm not a warrior. Not like you. The only thing I have any real experience in is guarding the books in the library, not people. And certainly not alone. I've never fought alone."

The sentence sounded so preposterous that Stephen had to hold back a laugh. "I'm a doctor". He gestured around him. "All this happened to me because I needed a cure for my hands. I wasn't a warrior either and I never asked for this responsibility. But I've had to become more than someone who saves lives. I've had to learn to defend them."

"And now the city is counting on you to defend it," he finished.

Wong dropped his shoulders and Strange could tell that he had won him over. "Alright, I'll do it. Just keep your cloak away from my iPod and the library while i'm gone."

Stephen nodded and waited for him to leave, hearing him mutter something about misplaced books, before facing the cloak. "You have me for the rest of the day. What would you like to do?"

The cloak suddenly flew out of the room.

Stephen cocked a brow before following.

He later found the cloak hovering above the bed and couldn't help but smile. "Of course, the bed. You're addicted to body heat and you wish nothing more than to spend the rest of the night on top of me. Right?"

Stephen tiredly rolled his eyes as the cloak fluttered with excitement. "I'll be right back."

He returned a few moments later, satisfied that he had a replacement to guard the Sanctum, but feeling silly after being laughed out of the room.

Still, a promise was a promise.

Stephen exhaled heavily and plopped down on the bed with a book entitled Translocation on a Molecular Level. The cloak floated over and softly settled on Stephen's chest, covering his entire body with its train.

It was there they stayed for the remainder of the day. Stephen content with reading his book and the cloak also content and happy with a warm chest to rest on.

* * *

 **A/N: The Cloak wants what the Cloak wants. ;)**


	5. Chapter 5: A Strange visitor

**A/N: Once again I thank you all profusely for the favorites, reviews, and follows :D Your lovely comments are making me feel higher than a kite in the Stratosphere XD This includes guests of course. You guys are awesome too :D I'm going to take a moment here to answer a question Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl had regarding the last chapter. The cloak learned to write by studying Wong's attempts at the English language. Remember, I mentioned a library incident… Also, this is an artifact we're talking about, made by the Ancient one, so intelligence to that degree isn't really far-fetched. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 5: A Strange visitor

~S~

"Hey guys, I guess we need a plan because it sounds like Stabby Mcbad haircut is back."

"And you without your robot armor, that must suck." Barton remarked sarcastically.

Tony glared at him." I made my armor using the highest of my own cutting-edge technology. Utilizing mathematical equations and mechanical engineering that would make your head spin backwards. So yeah, it does suck," he retorted.

"What about my wings, huh? Or Redwing. No telling what that creep is doing to her," Falcon grumbled to Tony who just looked away in disinterest.

You don't have your arrows either," Thor mentioned, staring straight at Hawkeye who gave him an eye roll.

"At least I didn't let someone steal a freakin lightning hammer from under my nose." Hawkeye stared right at Thor, rethinking his menacing approach when he saw the Son of Odin's muscles ripple in preparation. Even chained to the wall, he was terrified of him.

A new voice joined in. "Hey guys come on, don't blame Thor for this we all had our weapons stolen from us."

Tony smirked, turning his head. "All except you." He paused, head lolling upward in fake compilation, before facing the young teenager. "Oh wait, that's right, spider geek. Your only power is making flexible spider crap! So you're as useless as the rest of us."

"The word is webs, and it's made out of silk that exits through four cone-shaped projections near the rear tip of their abdomen!" Peter shouted.

"Looks like it's comin' out of their ass to me," Tony replied, dryly.

"Why you!-" Peter tried to throw a punch at the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, but Natasha's shocking tone of voice broke his concentration. As well as the chains holding both his arms.

"Boys! Stop arguing… none of you are useless. We can't blame ourselves for getting a bite to eat at a pancake house once in awhile." She glared at mostly Stark. "Now pull yourselves together."

"Yeah, when hunger strikes," remarked Steve.

Sam had been wisely staying out of it until now, knowing Tony wouldn't see his side of things. "Silence would be great right now. You all sound like a bunch of field mice fighting over a piece of cheese," Wilson remarked, seriously.

Natasha continued after glancing at Steve and then to Sam. "What we really need to be concerned with is how all of our weapons were stolen from under our noses without any of us noticing. I mean, have any of you come across something that's capable of… lifting Thor's hammer for instance."

All of them chorused a no, separately and without meter, except one.

"She's right."

Natasha smiled gratefully at Tony. It was rare when he ever took her side in these disputes.

"I could go for some more blueberry pancakes right now. Who's with me?" He raised his hand to the others the best he could while chained.

Black Widow scowled at him.

"Too bad the Hulk had to take a day off," Hawkeye muttered, leaning against a rusted pipe, which he immediately thought better of once the aroma of mildew and mold crept in. The rest of them gave a silent acknowledgement.

The air in front of them suddenly gave off bright vivid orange sparks that fanned out into a circle that kept getting brighter and brighter, growing in size until a man in a crimson cloak and a clean-cut goatee stepped out, his piercing blue eyes surveying them. The circle then disappeared in a shower of sparks. All of them went stiff, most squinting their eyes from the sudden change in lighting. Others were coldly calculating if this new addition posed any threat.

"Would you get a load of this guy!" Tony turned his sights from his cohorts, over to the visitor. "Um, the birthday party for Casey is the next house over," he remarked sarcastically.

The doctor rolled his eyes at the comment. He felt the cloak flutter in discontentment as well from the man's rude remarks. "I'm here to rescue you from an astral being that came to earth to steal your power and return it to its kin to ensure world domination."

"We shouldn't let this guy near any kids, he's been smoking something," Tony whispered to Barton who snorted in response.

"Are you from Asgard?" Thor asked, recognizing that the garment suspended from Strange's shoulders was much like his own.

Stephen sighed silently, the word Asgard unknown to him as well as the lives of these peculiar people. He didn't exactly have time to read all of their files before arriving. That is if there even were any in Wong's archives. "No, my name is Doctor Stephen Strange. Sorcerer of the mystic arts and protector of this world. I live in New York City."

"Well, no offense to your glowing ring, but we protect this planet and we'll get out of here just fine without the help of some dude in a cape," Tony retorted.

Barton whispered to him, but Tony frowned at the content.

"No, I wasn't referring to the farm boy with daddy issues," Stark corrected his friend in a low tone, before facing the visitor again.

"How are you going to get us out of here?" Natasha questioned, ignoring the squabbling. "What are your powers?"

Just as Natasha asked the question, Stephen felt his feet lift off the ground and rose into the air.

Smirking at the Avenger's responses, Stephen flexed his hands and brought his palms close together, creating a bright rod of light which he then whipped the flexible end of it towards the wall, severing the chains that held the bunch prisoner.

Then he floated back down to the ground.

"Yeah, he's good," Stark said simply as he stood, shaking off the remnants of chains that smoked after they clattered to the ground.

The rest of them, rose and started heading out, patting the doctor on the shoulder and whispering their thanks before walking off unfazed like it was just a common occurrence to be captured.

Honestly, Strange hadn't been that unlucky to get that part of tour yet, so he didn't really know what it felt like or what the damages would be if he ever underwent such treatment. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he thought, going by their reactions.

Natasha paused when she reached him, looking into his eyes. "Thank you. For saving us."

She started to walk away and then turned to him, her blue eyes glistening in the darkened dungeon now being lit by sparks of a blowtorch sawing through thick metal bars a few feet behind her.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're not too great with the reverse role. But I guess that's because we're used to doing all the saving ourselves, kinda a work alone type deal."

"Yeah, I get that vibe," Strange remarked.

As the woman walked away, Strange gently grabbed a fist-full of the crimson material behind him. "Thank you," Strange said gently, knowing that the cloak understood what he meant without having to voice his thoughts.

He smiled as the relic hugged his back.

Strange then straightened up, catching sight of the woman in the skin-tight black suit, which conformed perfectly to every curve, might he add, as she disapeared behind a wall. And as Strange was readying his sling ring, he hoped this wasn't going to be a regular occurrence, considering he stuck out like a clown at a funeral compared to some of them. But at the same time he felt like this would be a place where he may belong someday.

But for now, the view wasn't half bad.

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 **A/N: I really love writing these :D Just throwing this out there, but If you have any ideas for future chapters, please feel free to comment and i'll consider writing them. As for future material, I think you'll enjoy what I've got in store for Mr. Strange and his faithful Cloak in chapters to come. ;) Author fact: It's my first time writing the Avengers, so I hope the endeavour worked out.**


	6. Chapter 6: Endure

**A/N: Seriously, I still can't believe how much support I've received. You guys are making feel all fluffy and squishy inside :3 I wish I could thank you more, but for now I guess this will have to do: *Throws everyone a cake of their choosing* Enjoy!**

 **P.S: Happy Thanksgiving to you all!**

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Chapter 6: Endure

~S~

Glass shattered.

Though, the sound of it was muffled due to the distance and insulation of the upstairs bedroom. It was ordinary insulation, nothing too thick to impact the Sorcerer Supreme's hearing, but it kept the room nice and toasty during the winter.

Thanks to the cloak's extraordinary senses, the cloak heard the shatter of glass clear as day and wriggled off of Stephen and out of the confines of the covers to investigate. Of course this would have been more easily accomplished if the doctor's hand hadn't been lying on top, but the cloak managed it anyway without expelling too much power and hurting the doctor in its attempts.

The curious cloak then proceeded to float downstairs, trying to stifle the slight whooshing sound of its movements by easing up on the speed of descent.

Eventually the cloak reached the floor and leveled off, floating under the large mahogany table as inconspicuously as possible. From there, the cloak had a view straight to the kitchen and into the next section of the Sanctum. The mystic artifact waited.

And waited… And waited….

The cloak, being an infinite creation meant to live forever, was supreme at waiting so an extra five minutes seemed almost equivalent to the blink of an eye. Nothing compared to when the cloak had seen a hundred years pass by from the inside of a glass case, waiting for the next so-called chosen to step up to the mantle so it could grant the power of flight.

The cloak knew the soul house's secrets known and unknown. It is a mirror to the past, and keeps an imprint of the amount of good or evil the person had inflicted within their lives or how much positive change their presence brought about in the world. But more importantly, the artifact could read intents- like underlying words brought out of hiding with the acidity of a lemon. Most intents were only for the power, some were for pride, and others for jealousy. And some very rarely were murderous.

Though, now and then rare students would train under the Ancient One. -Students that possessed only the desire to serve others. The cloak of levitation saw such potential for greatness in them, as well as the Ancient One. But as soon as the cloak settled upon the student's shoulders and lifted them into the air to fulfil the last test of indomitability, they would either scream, struggle, or pass out. Sometimes all three.

The cloak remembers when it came to Stephen's rescue. Such power, such potential for unyielding faith, trust, and humility radiated off of the man- along with a large ego that could at times stifle his good qualities. But the cloak could tell that it had been diminished.

Then there was the fall.

The cloak had been proficient in defending the young sorcerer thus far, but for a young mortal man imprisoned in the miscellaneous constructs of time and space, the cloak had to act quickly as he Kaecilius shoved Strange the edge of the banister.

But Stephen Strange presented yet another anomaly to the cloak. The man didn't seem to care if he lived or died. What tragedy could have befallen this man to value his own life so little?

In a split second of time, the cloak latched onto Stephen's shoulders before he plummeted meters to a hard-stone death. An intermediary connection forged in an instant, allowing the doctor's memories to flow freely into the cloak.

And then, what happened next was just _magical…._

The Cloak levitated the man into the air, and surprisingly, he stayed completely calm, never once shuddering with fear. This proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Stephen carried the mantle of _Chosen, and the journey they would both embark upon would surely be unforgettable._

The chattering of a few voices brought the cloak out of its proverbial walk down memory lane.

The Cloak of Levitation now fully alert, watched as three men with narrowed, glowing green eyes stepped through the broken window, landing on remnants of glass that crunched beneath their feet as they entered, uninvited. They were shifty characters with a thin frame and blackened souls from the many deaths they brought about on other planetary evolutions. In their gnarled and crinkled hands, they carried their own form of luminescence shaped from the core of a rare asteroid which swung from a thick chain as they made their way into the study room.

The cloak stayed concealed, measuring if their intents were to either plunder the artifacts in the Sanctum Sanctorium or harm its residence. Both were off limits.

A flash of metal. _They were all carrying knives._

The cloak whisked upstairs to Stephen, unseen. Being heard didn't matter now. Stephen's life was in danger.

The Cloak of Levitation realized that it had barely a minute to wake Stephen from his slumber, but that had to be enough time.

First, the garment wrapped a curve of itself around the sleeping sorcerer's arm and tried to shake him awake, then gently tugged on his hair. _No response. The cloak knew for certain that if it somehow possessed a heart, said heart, would be beating faster than a hummingbird hopped up on caffeine, as Strange would say. He could be colorful with his metaphors on occasion._

A loud pounding sound reached the cloak's senses, but it knew that the Stephen wouldn't be able to pick up anything but the light click-clack of shoes. Time was no longer free and in a last resort, it landed onto Strange's shoulders and raised the sleeping man high in the air before shaking him.

The cloak rejoiced as Stephen pried open his eyes, but felt deep regret at the man's horrified response to waking up ten feet in the air. Feeling each erratic pump of his heart and inhalation of his lungs as they fought to take in air.

The garment hadn't meant to frighten the poor man, just wake him.

"What the hell!" Strange shouted, kicking his legs and arms in a scuba-diving like form.

The cloak clung to him, wrapping itself around the distraught sorcerer to calm him, but Stephen just shrugged it off and dropped his shoulders, not accepting the gesture.

A low voice abruptly whispered from the floor below. "He's awake. We have to act now."

Alarm bells were ringing for Stephen's safety, but the cloak couldn't conjure up any gateways or fly him out the door without risking his life. Secondly, Stephen still remained partially unperceptive to the world around him to be able to focus his mind to the degree required to use magic.

 _They were both trapped._

The cloak quickly lowered Strange to the ground, knowing that its chosen had to at least get his bearings after the probable dizzy spell from the abrupt wake-up-call. Then something unexpected happened...

An extremely powerful protective instinct overcame the cloak so suddenly and powerfully that it flew in front of Stephen, gladly knowing and accepting from the depths of its corporeal being that it was going to sacrifice itself to shield Strange from harm.

Then they came…

The green eyed men barged inside the room brandishing sharp knives in their hands with which they then immediately proceeded to stab at Stephen relentlessly before he had a chance to defend himself or properly register the attack at all. This ended up causing Strange to fall backwards on the bed.

The incursion did however manage to bring Strange to a fully awake and aware state.

Stephen stared up at the crimson sky a foot above him, feeling a swell of deep gratitude as he realized that he was being sheltered by the cloak, -which thankfully and conveniently covered his entire body so that not one toe was even exposed.

The shadow of the knives pelted against the crimson fabric at speeds unheard of, edging in closer and then fading out to nothing but unrecognizable shadows before another stab went deeper. But thankfully to the cloak's credit, the blades hadn't had a chance to pierce Stephen's heart so far, which he could tell the astral beings were aiming for with every brutal stab.

To be Truthful, the whole experience was extremely nerve wracking, and at first he wasn't sure if he would survive for much longer. But holding on to the cloak's velvety train helped to sooth him slightly, making the onslaught easier to handle.

The doctor remembered that he had imprudently put aside the task of warding the place more thoroughly yesterday, which would have been a substantial method to block out all Supernatural foes that didn't have the key to the sigils, preventing this outrage from happening. The doctor planned then and there to do some major redecorating after this.. idiotic incident passed. Because this would be over, and he would be left intact. _Hopefully..._

Stephen had never imagined the cloak possessed so much raw strength, having withstood an hour of them hacking away at his brave friend. Though, no matter how long Strange had known the artifact, he supposed he would never get to the end of the List of Undiscovered Abilities anytime soon.

Though, he was glad of it in this situation.

Stephen had anticipated, but hoped that the time wouldn't come to pass when the cloak… ran out of steam.

There were sadly signs, though now unmistakable. Whenever the blades would strike now, Strange saw the cloak flinch slightly before stretching back into place. Not knowing what else to do, Strange tried his best to console his friend. But his efforts to comfort the cloak just like before were unaccepted. The cloak didn't want a distraction. But why? Was it just being stubborn?

Stephen came to the realisation that maybe the cloak hadn't crossed that level yet. After all, the garment turned away his help, something that had never happened. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought.

But after another hour, the situation worsened.

The cloak started shuddering, sinking lower with each thrust of the knives as they tore open what Strange knew was more of it's corporeal self. Though, perhaps they could only leave micro-tears, considering Strange had not seen the daggers pierce the cloaks fabric yet. Strange then felt himself tremor with a sudden thought. What if micro-tears were worse than full tears. After all, when humans had a papercut or some other small incision, they tended to hurt much worse than the larger ones. So maybe the cloak experienced the same with microtears?

Strange thought over all the possibilities why his extremely strong cloak was weakening. The conclusion he came to dealt with the material of the blades, remembering the shark-like creature that almost OD'd the artifact on the time sensitive planet. They must have been specially made to weaken the cloak, knowing that a large portion of the astral plane had likely seen them on missions. But Stephen solemnly knew that the cloak would fight for him to its last dying breath, despite his heartbeat's objections. Now it fell upon Stephen to offer his support, more thorough this time, even if it wasn't accepted.

The cloak only functioned on pure adrenaline now, though not the human kind but much more powerful like the reentry of a rocket. Its fibers and very corporeal self were stretched to their maximum to ensure the knives didn't have the slightest chance to hurt Stephen.

But the cloak could feel itself weakening… and it was the most horrific feeling in all of its existence.

The Cloak of Levitation was created to protect the life of the chosen one under every circumstance. Even sacrificing its own life if need be. But the option of martyr wasn't possible in this circumstance and the cloak knew it was slipping. The grip on Stephen was slipping, the tautness of its fabric was about to go limp any second now. And there was pain.

At first the cloak had just felt a twinge of discomfort, but now the garment could feel itself starting to rip apart from the inside. And it hurt horribly. The cloak didn't understand why, but could sense the answer because of one feature. The knives weren't strong enough to cut all the way through its corporeal form, just partly inside. Which caused the cloak a great amount of pain. _Endure_ _For Stephen Strange. Always for the chosen. For Friend._

"Please, hang on."

Stephen's voice was shaking, laced with a desperation that smothered the reassuring tone he tried to reach. The cloak had never heard him sound so vulnerable before. Then again, they hadn't exactly been in this tight of a spot until now. Its chosen's trembling fingers were gripping a part of the cloak very hard and with so much fear that the cloak was temporarily brought out of its own reverie, focusing on only the fear of its chosen.

The artifact was always aware of Stephen's fear, though due to the close proximity and the area over his head the knives currently hit, it echoed much stronger now.

Also, the sensation the cloak received from the contact of Stephen's hand grew unimaginably stronger. Stephen was terrified. And what was worse is he had reason to be. The cloak knew that the fabric covering Strange was sinking lower and lower, - the mystical artifact could sense it, and if something didn't happen soon to change those odds then the cloak will have failed in its destiny and lost the greatest and only friend that it had left.

But before that could happen, something needed to be addressed and taken care of. Specifically his health. _Stephen's heartbeat was abnormally, high as of yet. That had to come down._

The cloak, feeling every emotion from Stephen pulse through its sensitive fabric like an SOS signal, pushed some dying residual power into Stephen in an attempt to calm him.

It worked.

The cloak could feel the pressure around a part of itself diminish, and quite unexpectedly a peaceful sensation coursed through its corporeal form that numbed the pain while the power healed its corporeal form from the inside out, mending every micro-tear. _This was Stephen's energy._ _The cloak could recognize it anywhere._

...

 _This was it. This was how Stephen Vincent Strange was going to die, the doctor thought blearily to himself._

Stephen swallowed as one of the blades hovered over his forehead. The fabric of the cloak had drifted too close to his skin now and he knew that it would be over quickly.

But the fact did nothing to quell his fear. Unsurprisingly he was afraid. He had been edging between slightly fearful and terrified the entire time. But he wasn't by any standards being weak. Anyone would be afraid in the this situation and now he was also surprisingly scared to die.

Perhaps it was due to the burden of grief that Christine would have to go through?

 _No, don't lie to yourself Stephen. Your fear stems from worrying what's going to happen to you, not the people you care about. That's why you came here seeking help in the first place. For yourself._

It may have been harsh, but it was the truth. And yet, a part of him would give next to anything for that not to be true. He would give next to anything to operate on the patients he turned away because they hadn't presented enough challenge or fame. They could have all died thanks to his selfishness. To his knowledge, some did, and now he was about to experience what it was like to die in the prime of life. _It was a just ending for a live lived mostly for himself._

 _But what about the cloak? Where was his unspoken eulogy?_

Stephen knew the reason subconsciously. If he started his goodbye's to the cloak, then it would all be _real. The assassin's raining down with their weapons would be real, the cloak's last minutes alive would be real. Death would be real. And Stephen couldn't take that again._ This way, he saved both the cloak and himself from registering reality because if he didn't have to say goodbye to another friend, he wouldn't feel like he was really dying.

As the knife reeled back in preparation, Stephen closed his eyes, tensing but accepting nothing more that could have been done on either of their parts, and waited for the split second of searing agony that would come from his cerebral cortex being punctured.

But it never came…

Instead, he strangely felt the cloak nudge his shoulder, as if saying, _open your eyes._

Strange obeyed.

Immediately, his skin bristled from the change in temperature. As he sat up, Strange noticed the room was brightly lit and he saw his faithful friend hovering over three limp bodies against the wall, each holding knives with a bent tip. If Stephen had the energy, he probably would have laughed at the territorial pose the cloak struck, but the doctor just collapsed with a mixture of exhaustion and relief onto the bed.

"Thank you…" Stephen breathed. "You saved my life."

* * *

 **A/N: I think after this chapter both Stephen and the cloak deserve a really long and deserved rest. (At least until Thanksgiving is over. ;) What do you think?**


	7. Chapter 7: Heat

**A/N: I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving and pleasant times with your loved ones :) There is nothing more important in this world than family. Thank's a million you guys for all the support and love you've shown this fic. I assure you that I will get back to responding to each and every one of you :D Now, treats would be handed out to all you readers, but I suspect you had plenty yesterday. XD For people less fortunate: *Throws out cookies and cupcakes* (Btw, if any of you missed the update, I recommend you go back and read chapter 6 for the full effect.) I must admit that I had an overwhelming urge to take baths while writing this chapter, so I hope the desire doesn't get out of hand for any of you :P This chapter prompt is brought to you by** SkyHighDisco-new **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 7: Heat

~S~

"How did this happen?"

Stephen had just returned from a long day of battling the recent threat to mankind in the astral plane, to find the cloak covered from collar to train in the foulest smelling blue astral goop- which was the only description for it.

Stephen thought back to the battle, breaking down the elements with his photographic memory. To his recollection, there hadn't been much opportunity for the Vlyffl to hock all over his cloak. He had made sure to duck its advances and never kept his back turned from it in case the creature tried to shove him onto his stomach, which wouldn't have ended cleanly as the planet's surface was covered in long spikes that protruded one foot up from the ground.

Stephen sighed and walked into the bathroom. At least, he would have made there if his cloak( the prime reason for going there in the first place) hadn't flown off his shoulders in that moment, sensing his motive. The cloak hovered in mid-air, high up towards the ceiling, Making Strange positive that this wasn't going to be easy as he had originally predicted.

"Oh, come on, I already promised you that I wouldn't make the same mistake again." He spoke gently to it. "Trust me."

The first time Stephen had tried to give his cloak a bath, he made the mistake of drawing the water first, which started out burning hot, but after the doctor finished chasing the cloak all over the Sanctorium the water turned a freezing temperature, unknown to Strange. When he finally caught the cloak by some miracle, it took all his strength to submerge the garment.

Consequently, the cloak, of course being virtually, allergic to the cold had reacted very chaotically to being dunked into the icy water and Stephen ended up losing his balance and falling in the tub with the cloak, to experience the most frigid bath of his life.

Needless to say, Stephen had learned his lesson.

Stephen shrugged his shoulders when the cloak dramatically turned away from him.

He tried a logical approach, his voice firm and unyielding. "You can't expect to believe that I'm going to let you just perch on my shoulders with that smelly alien slime on you. Do you? I have to clean it off."

The cloak stubbornly didn't budge.

It was at this moment that the sorcerer wished for two cloaks so he could be on a level playing field when this sort of thing happened.

"If you don't let me do this, I guarantee that you'll just be bored and all alone here, never going on missions or…. getting any body heat." Alright, so he lied about the first part, but it was more of a white lie. The body heat part, however, was completely true and Stephen's last attempt to sway the cloak.

The cloak bristled at his words. Stephen knew that he almost had it.

"Come on. If it's any consolation, I was just as miserable as you that time. I promise you that things will be different. You might even enjoy it. You are addicted to heat and the tub with be filled with lots of steaming warm water," Strange added, confident that the use of vivid adjectives would be more fruitful. The doctor didn't see why it wouldn't be true. The cloak loved everything else that felt warm, including the obvious: lounging on his lap, chest, neck, or simply by the fireplace. Though, Stephen had his suspicions that the cloak wouldn't be nearly as comfortable with those arrangements if _his_ body heat weren't thrown into the mix.

The cloak perked up at the word 'warm' and turned towards the doctor.

Stephen did a few quick tilts of his head before pivoting towards the bathroom, hopeful that the cloak would follow as he walked inside. The nearly silent movements of the cloak heard behind, were testament to his modus operandi. Stephen allowed a small smile to ghost his lips. _He'd done it._

When the doctor entered, he made sure to plug in the drain before turning the nozzle on hot, then sat down on the edge of the tub. He waited patiently for the hot water to run out so he could add some cold, trying to conceal his expression in a mask of indifference.

Stephen felt slightly nervous doing this after the last bath session because if he somehow did something to jeopardize things again, Strange knew the cloak would never bathe again.

From what he could tell, the cloak also seemed nervous, going by the signature way the cloak would look at anything else in the room but Stephen or the bath. Or float high in the air on occasion- a characteristic Strange has recognized over time as a technique to make it feel in charge. Though, the garment would droop down and mope when Stephen glanced at it.

However, Strange was about to be surprised with yet another hidden feature of the cloak's.

As the steam started to rise, the cloak curiously floated over to the tub to investigate. Stephen did have to hold up his hand as the cloak tried to touch the burning water with one of its flaps, though.

"That's not a good idea. You should wait until I add the cold water or you'll burn yourself," Strange warned, partially feeling like he was disciplining a small child.

But the cloak didn't listen, and before Strange could stop it, the cloak floated down into the surface of the water before submerging almost all of itself except for the collar.

Stephen waited for a squirm, or the violent flapping indicating that the water might be burning the cloak, but oddly enough, the artifact seemed to actually be enjoying it. Relaxed, even.

"Or just jump right in," he added, partially shocked as he let out a breath he unknowingly held in.

Stephen couldn't believe it. The water temperature had to be scalding the cloak, right? Besides the obvious velvety crimson fabric and of course inner essence, what on earth protected the cloak from 140-degree temperatures? Perhaps it had something to do with how the garment had been constructed. With magic. Magic had to be the key to all of this, and yet, this didn't answer why the cloak was unprotected against freezing temperatures and not the burning ones.

The more he thought about it, the more the cloak just reminded him of a giant lizard. Happy to be on the sun-warmed rocks, but when the shade came, it would either look for another rock or retire back inside its nest until the sun came out again. Was that it? Was the cloak really amphibian-like when it came to temperature?

For now, Stephen couldn't contradict the possibility, so he kept the thought at the back of his mind for later examination, and observed the cloak, amused and baffled expressions crossing his features as well as the occasional chuckle or soft laugh.

The water had nearly filled half the tub and caused the cloak to now float slightly above the porcelain bottom, its edges would occasionally beat lightly against the sides of the tub, breaking the illusion of a normal cloak being inside.

Stephen remembered at the last second to turn off the water, but the cloak didn't seem to notice any change while in its ambrosia of warmth.

This, however, set other gears into motion as the doctor noticed small amounts of blue slime floating on a thin film on the water's surface. The cloak would surely need to be washed properly with soap as well as water to clean all remnants of odor. For that, he needed some proper waterproof gloves to protect his damaged hands from the scalding water, and a cleaning solution fit for the task.

"I'll be right back," Stephen said, feeling a need to reassure the cloak of his return, but he received not a single sound in return. _Naturally, the cloak was too relaxed to be bothered to acknowledge a word._

Stephen left and soon returned with a pair of pair of yellow waterproof gloves in one hand and a suitable cleaning solution he had found while rummaging around the various storage rooms in the Sanctum, in the other.

Stephen donned the gloves and prepped the cleaning solution, hoping the cloak would be too sedate to fight him.

"Alright, relaxation period is over, now I need to wash the slime off you," Stephen spoke, cautious, but boldly, kneeling down on the thick rug beside the bathtub. Strange always had the feeling he needed to assert more dominance, but it rarely happened thanks to the cloaks obvious powers of making him surrender to nearly every need. _But who could say no to that face?_

Hearing no response as expected, Stephen reached in and gently lifted the steaming cloak out of the water, causing it to turn its collar towards him slowly and in a dazed-like way.

"I have to get this slime off you and then I'll put you back in the water," Stephen assured, already reaching for the solution.

Even with the gloves, Stephen could feel the immense heat from the fabric almost baking his hands like an oven. It was nothing Stephen couldn't handle though.

The doctor then poured the solution over the cloak, and almost immediately the garment started to foam up, the residual slime in the bath also doing the same. _It was working._

Amazingly, the cloak didn't react as it had done with almost every new experience but kept calm in its chosen's capable hands as he coated the entirety of the garment. Stephen knew that this good behavior was most likely had to do with the Ancient One. She had been the keeper, the creator, so surely there must have come a time when she had to utilize the cloak to defend the city, also for possible fights in the astral plane that were messy.

Not long after, the foam started to disappear and left a layer of tiny white bubbles behind that held a dark-blue tint to them.

Those needed to be rinsed off.

Stephen lowered the cloak back into the water, eliciting the edges of the garment to fan out once more against the sides of the tub like some stingray.

Stephen then gently ran his slightly shaky gloved hands over the fabric, smiling as the cloak fanned out, even more, to give him access as he moved along the material, rinsing every remnant of their encounter away.

Not long after, the cloak was completely clean, its velvety fabric shimmering from the water droplets.

Strange never thought he would utter his next words, especially to the cloak. "Okay, we're all done. Do you want to soak a little longer or would you like to get out now?"

The cloak lifted its collar towards him again, which Stephen took as a 'no,' not quite sure of any answer, and started to lower it back under the water.

Strange stopped as he saw the cloak curl a part of itself around his hand, hovering above the water. "I guess not," he muttered in surprise, chuckling to himself as he rose to his feet to fetch a towel. After wrapping the soaking garment, Strange pulled off his gloves- knowing that the cloak's outward temperature was now cool enough to touch, and headed into the sitting room where he would be more comfortably situated.

Once there, he briefly thought about lighting the fireplace to speed up the drying process, but then he remembered with a smirk that the cloak would prefer the prolonged method instead. So setting himself down with a sigh, Strange unwrapped the still dripping cloak and set to the meticulous but rewarding task of drying every inch of the near blood-red fabric, not wanting mildew to form.

The cloak didn't exactly keep still, though.

About half way through the process, the cloak began to tremble. _The cloak was cold. The heat from the bath must have worn off._ Stephen rose briefly from the chair, promptly getting the fireplace started.

A bright warm glow and crisp crackles soon encompassed the entire room. Stephen smiled softly as the cloak stretched in his hands like a contented cat.

"See? I told you you'd enjoy it."

* * *

 **A/N: That cloak is just too precious :3 Makes me want to go out and buy my own :P**


	8. Chapter 8: Abducted

**A/N: Alright. I really wish that someone would write this kind of chapter, but after waiting all this time, I decided to write it myself. Keep in mind that this is where the T rating comes into** **picture, but it's not really a larger caliber than the movie violence. Enjoy!**

 **Warnings: Hurt!Stephen**

* * *

Chapter 8: Abducted

~S~

A patch of moonlight shone down on a figure strapped to a chair. His face was a grim picture of misery and resentment, underlined with sharp jagged cuts across his face and one small, but minute deep cut on one of his arms. Not from any torture. -At least most of them weren't anyway. No. Most of the outcome came from a different source and wasn't exactly painless either.

A sharp clatter made the doctor startle awake, unconsciously clutching the edges of the chair as he had done so before the darkness consumed him.

Stephen blinked blearily, trying to clear his foggy vision before craning his head cautiously in every direction. Stephen's heart stopped as his eyes rested on two metal claw-like pincers in the corner of the room. Empty.

The cloak was gone.

* * *

Darkness.

The cloak felt cramped, its fabric bunched up against something very cold and slippery and the deepest tendrils of its being could sense something incredibly wrong. The cloak could sense its chosen. He was afraid and confused and…. looking for it.

Just as the cloak tried floating, it felt something needle-like pierce its center, producing a sharp stinging feeling that ebbed all throughout its corporeal essence creating a dizzying, paralyzing effect that started to take over, rendering it inert to everything but its chosen's steady life wave... which thankfully hadn't shattered yet.

A red light buzzed and glowed and filled the container with infrared red light followed by a white fog that drenched the container in a noxious gas that in an instant, knocked the cloak unconscious. But not before the cloak, unknowing, sent an extremely strong wave of fear to Stephen.

* * *

24 hours earlier…..

The wind whipping around the doctor is a nice change from the stuffy air in the Sanctum Sanctorum as he travels through the astral plane. The cloak also seemed to be enjoying itself, playing with the occasional energy orb that crossed their path or carving out artful designs whenever they passed through thick floating nebular globs.

"You're quite the artist, aren't you?" Stephen muttered. He smiled as the cloak fluttered happily against his back.

Strange rolled his shoulders back- a method he had learned recently to tell the cloak to slow down. The previous method he used wasn't fair or comfortable for the cloak as Stephen had to basically tug on the edges of its fabric like the reins attached to a horse, to produce the desired movement.

Violet fiery hues spiraled around the core of the planet several hundred meters away, ensnaring bits of floating debris in the form of colossal energy structures of various colors and shapes as they passed by before spitting out flecks of rainbow particles into space. This planet appeared to be carnivorous when it came to the consumption of energy, which likely meant that its inhabitants were also following the same diet.

But Strange was searching for a more organic planet that followed a symbiosis to benefit and grow. Only organic planets provided the resources needed to keep certain technology at the Sanctum functioning. Once every century, the supply needed to be refilled.

Strange stretched out his arms in front of him and the cloak sped up to top speed again.

They followed along the same path passing hundreds of planets, all inorganic and most either visibly volatile to humans or possessing hidden characteristics that very nearly entangled the doctor in its monstrous vines with sharp spines that produced a sticky, sap-like substance that Stephen had no doubt that it would have pinned him there until whatever digestive enzymes present, slowly ate him.

Thankfully, the cloak found a space in-between where the vines were slowly enclosing themselves around the sorcerer and was able to pull him out just in the nick of time before he became an astral plant's breakfast. Stephen had been incredibly grateful at this point that he hadn't gone alone.

Having learned how to levitate in the recent months, Strange had considered the option before Wong warned him of astral dangers as well as informed him that he hadn't learned the technique to increase his speed to the desired degree of surpassing the astral creatures and other such dangers that would await vulnerability. This eventually swayed Stephen into taking the cloak along with him. Although, Wong's childish sound effects of crunching bones and pained screams before he left were completely unnecessary.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Stephen thanked his cloak and continued on in search of the right planet.

Though, their troubles weren't over with yet…

When they were halfway to another planet, the cloak all of a sudden flew off him and slammed itself into a nearby asteroid. Or so he thought, for when the cloak flew back to him, he saw a grayish-silver creature shaped like a common house fly- only this housefly had two mouths and equaled the size of a softball, lift its head and turn toward Strange.

The doctor shuddered when it smiled a menacing, toothy grin at him before its body twitched a few times and then it died.

That must have been one of the Arachnievods that were rumored to roam parts of the astral plane in search of food. A diet consisting of fresh meat and the organs of other creatures.

 _Yeah, really good that I brought the cloak,_ he thinks.

They were about to continue on to the planet, when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted…. Hundreds more flying in his direction. A look to a part of the asteroid told him that the cloak had trespassed on their feeding ground of an apparent dead, giant unknown creature that looked like a spider; only with large tusks and insect-like mandibles. Now he knew where the creatures got their name.

The cloak acted unusually hesitant against him, flickering like the flexing muscles of a predatory animal about to take down its prey.

Stephen understood and prepared himself as well, feeling a stone settle at the bottom of his stomach. An astral battle with these creatures had never been attempted before now, and not with hundreds of these terrifying creatures.

Stephen felt familiar soft pressure and glanced down at his body to see the cloak clutching onto him.

"Of course. I forgot you sense my fear," he said.

Stephen swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to keep his head clear for the spells and mystical shields.

Though, with those numbers, Stephen had a feeling it wouldn't help much. All he could do was trust in the cloak to get him through this. -Hopefully with minimal injury.

Taking a calming breath, Stephen conjured the biggest shield he could forge. That's when he noticed something…. The cloak wasn't letting go.

Stephen furrowed his brow at this, but he didn't mind the contact one bit. Truthfully, he was grateful for the calming sense of protection around him. It felt warm and comforting to have the cloak so close.

With a small smile, he signaled the cloak to fly towards the fast-approaching armada.

Stephen first used his shield to knock as many of them out as he could and came at groups of them with small glowing hand shields soon after, punching them out one by one while the cloak flicked them into space with the tips of its train before clinging to the doctor again.

Strange sliced his way through more of their numbers, utilizing his sling ring to banish larger numbers of them when they would swarm at a closer proximity.

As time drug on, the armada had dwindled to about 200. A good number, but the battle was far from over and the use of magic as well as Strange's physical strength to endure their attacks, was waning. He even found it difficult to conjure gateways which forced Strange to retreat.

The cloak sensed this and clung tighter, covering his internal organs to protect them in case one of the Arachchnievods managed to break past the weakened defenses and tried to get at them.

Stephen smirked at the cloaks behavior.

But not long after, the astral creatures began to swarm them, bonding their bodies tight together to reduce vulnerability in the way a virus would adapt and change after being treated with a hopeful cure.

"A GIANT FLYSWATTER WOULD BE REALLY HELPFUL RIGHT NOW!" Strange shouted, to no one in particular, stabbing his glass knife straight through the middle of one of the flies as it flew near his abdomen.

But every time he would kill one, the others grew more vicious.

The doctor clenches his teeth as a few of them fly by lightning-fast and scratch his exposed face with their razor-sharp teeth. He vaporizes the stragglers before they have a chance to boomerang back and hids as best he can under the cover of the cloak, pulling it's fabric to himself as he has no other option left but to take cover as they pelt him with rage in full strength of their numbers.

He did his best to vaporize the stragglers before they had a chance to boomerang back, but he soon became tightly surrounded by the salivating, snarling flies.

Strange hid himself as best he could under the cover of the cloak, pulling its fabric to himself as he had no other option left but to take cover as they pelted him with rage in the full strength of their numbers.

The cloak, sensing Stephen's vulnerability, did the only thing it could do at that moment... The garment darted out towards space in search of a safe nearby planet to hide its chosen.

A potential planet soon came within its sights, though before landing, the cloak could sense an atmosphere enclosing the planet.

 _That would hurt Stephen._

Instead, the cloak shifted Stephen and cradled his entire body so he faced towards the sky, before softly descending into the fiery atmosphere below.

Careful not to crush Strange with the force, the cloak tentatively laid him down on the ground, searching the sky for the creatures. But the sky looked clear and there appeared to be no danger from any of the flora or fauna, or the soil. The cloak's corporeal form surged with pride in that Strange was safe for now. He was _alive._

But pride was soon replaced by sadness and disappointment as it beheld its injured doctor.

The cloak brushed its soft fabric over Stephen's wounds, gently and slowly in an effort to ease his pain.

Stephen felt an urge to get up and stop the garment, but he was too intrigued to follow through. Instead, he lied still as the cloak.. tended to him. Strange didn't know if it was his imagination or a healing power undiscovered, but the cuts on his face felt better as the cloak's velvety surface swept over them.

In fact, the sensation felt very peaceful and relaxing after what the had just been through that Stephen indulged the cloak to do this for five minutes,( really ten minutes more but he didn't want to admit it,) before rising off the ground. The doctor blamed his actions on the fact that time moved faster on this planet than he was commonly used to in his line of work.

Breathing in the sweet smelling air and giving one last look to the sky in case they were followed through, Stephen spoke. "Alright, we came here to trade for samples of the energy here. Let's do this quick so we can go home," he said in a terse manner, then did a small twirl of his cloak through the air. It latched onto his shoulders with honor.

The land was filled with many piles of dirt along the way.

Intrigued to know more, Strange Climbed on a tall pile to get a bit of a bird's-eye view of the surroundings.

Strange saw hundreds of them all laid out in a circular pattern that seemed to stretch for miles and miles. Some were very short and small, but others were the size of trees and… smelly. He now realized that they actually smelled like rotting flesh, not just piles of dirt.

Stephen plugged his nose and strategically proceeded to climb down the pile with one hand. Although, as he was taking his last step to the ground something white sticking out of the pile of dirt where his shoe uncovered a chunk of mud, caught his eye.

Moving in closer, Stephen flicked away the soil from the object with his finger and stepped back with disgust and unease when he recognized it. A human bone. There was a human bone buried in that dirt pile and he was a doctor so he couldn't have been mistaken.

The cloak floated off Stephen's shoulders and over to the bone, before doing something very unexpected.

Doctor Strange raised a perplexed eyebrow as the cloak wrapped itself around the bone, the red crimson fabric shivering.

Stephen had a feeling this cut deeper than just common sympathy for the soul that died. The cloak must have known this unfortunate person.

Then it hit him. Wong had told Strange that many masters before him visited many of these planets to try and trade for a sample of the inhabitants organic energy. But while most made it home safely, some never returned to the Sanctum. Strange realized that what he was looking at might have been some of the remains of a previous master, and by this point, Stephen didn't even want to know what killed the master. They urgently needed to leave the planet now before he too became a skeletal remain.

However, as the doctor was about to pull the cloak away, Stephen reined himself in for a moment, watching the cloak's…. breakdown.

That was the term for it, but he had never seen the cloak mourn anyone. He wasn't even sure the cloak had mourned the Ancient one. But never the less, It calmed his rising anxiety to witness such a display and took his mind off the murderous planet and his fear for his life.

Strange sighed. The cloak was mourning its previous master, he couldn't find it in him to interrupt that. He would wait…

...

Strange opened his eyes, feeling offbeat that he ever closed them because he had absolutely no memory of falling asleep.

Fractals of memories came back to him. The endearing artwork of the cloak as they passed through suitable canvases, the sharp vines, the armada of organ-eating flies. More importantly, the cloak's _unyielding_ support through it all. He remembered the cloak was a very dear friend.

-But his memory was completely blank as to how he ended up here.

Stephen stayed still and obedient as he was taken in a small room and set in a chair positioned underneath a large skylight on the ceiling.

When the beings turned their bodies towards the doctor, he saw two things: One, they looked very human. Two, they were carrying some sort of weapon that would no doubt be used on him if he tried anything.

So with that information, the doctor waited as they tied him up with thin white ropes. _Easily_ _snappable,_ he thinks to himself.

One of the captors with very pale skin then leaned over him, violet eyes scanning him so intensely that made Strange want to shy away as the other one worked the ropes around wrists and ankles.

But Strange didn't want to appear weak so he stared him down fiercely, his jaw ticking a few times as his calculating gaze examining this creature.

But the facade disappeared when the doctor caught sight of one of them grabbing his arm and hovering the weapon he spied them carrying, over his arm.

Stephen tried but failed to jerk away. "What are you doing?"

No answer.

The tendons of his injured hands were straining as he struggled in their grasp. He was now shouting. "What are you doing!"

A button was pressed and Stephen keeled his head back as he felt something sharp pierce his flesh. He unsuccessfully stifled a scream, writhing so hard that the ropes burned his arms as the device sliced through his flesh, carving straight down his arm.

"Cloak! Please help me!" he cried out, knowing that the cloak was the only one he could cry to at the moment as the knife cut deeper. He desperately wanted the pain to stop. He desperately wanted to see shimmering fabric burst through the doors and take out these perverse astral creatures. And that was ruling over his pride and ego to get himself out. He wanted, needed to be rescued.

Through his foggy awareness, Strange heard the aliens speak again as the pain decreased.

"Why do you think human's react to this procedure so violently?"

The other one answered. "They are a weak species."

Strange wanted to shout: Because unlike you, we have sensory receptors in our skin that send messages via nerve fibers to the spinal cord and brainstem, enabling us to feel pain! _But_ Stephen felt too disoriented and his vision was too blurry to do anything but just make out a faint silhouette of red being carried away, as well as the pressure on his arm diminishing as it was released.

The cloak was being taken somewhere. Stephen thought strongly. _Hopefully the cloak is strong enough to resits them._

Blinking away a few tears, Strange stared down at his arm and saw a two-inch long cut. It was deep and was bleeding a little, but the blood around the area had congealed enough for it to be a superficial problem in terms of bleeding out. These awful creatures must have developed a device to congeal blood at a faster rate than anything he had seen before.

Not to mention, in a very painful way.

But another thought terrified him and caused an icy shiver to snake down his spine. If these creatures didn't feel pain as he suspected, then that meant that they could do anything to him. And Stephen had a feeling he knew what they were planning. Telling them was out of the question though.

Stephen's voice was tight and gravelly as he spoke. "So that's it then? You're just going to leave me like this and build a clone of me with my blood?"

Stephen felt fear growing inside him. The doctor didn't know what these astral creatures were planning to do to him, but his ideas were moving toward their probable need for anatomical awareness and the possibility of more cutting or something worse, horrified him the longer he thought about it. Would Wong figure out what planet they were being held on and send a rescue team? Would he even notice he was missing?

His mind awhirl with perplexing questions as he heard them mutter something about blood and tissue samples before his captors left. Though Doctor Strange could also hear the faint but direct sound of his cloak violently flapping before they shut the heavy door.

To be continued….

* * *

 **What do you think will happen next?**

 **Long A/N incoming: I just love doing these types of chapters. They really give you more of a real connection to the characters and their situation after you've basically experienced their trials and tribulations. Before I move on, I'd like to say that a fellow writer reminded me that the last Avengers chapter was a complete contradiction to the title of this fic. These ficlets are mainly supposed to only be about their blossoming relationship. I apologize for forgetting that and I promise I will NEVER do that again.**

 **You guys are too amazing and I am astounded by all the follows, favorites, and reviews you've given and truly blessed to have such dedicated readers. I do all this for the joy of writing and also to make your day a little brighter :D And yes, I'm not going to deny that reviews don't give me joy as well, because they certainly have and they keep me motivated as they do for every author. So thank you for those. *heart***

 **Kat(guest) - If this story were an AU there might be the tiniest possibility that I would write the cloak as a different form, but the idea is frankly too peculiar and I would feel weird writing that kind of chapter ever. But who knows, maybe another author will take your idea on :)**

 **The mix of the two movie soundtracks: The Da Vinci Code, and Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them worked beautifully while writing this. Thank you, Ista ;)**

 **Now, I know that I've left you all with quite a cliffhanger and please don't hate me when I tell you this next part, but I am very depressed about having to take a leave of absence from writing for about a week or longer until I finish my college presentations and exams for the end of the school year. *Slowly backs away and exits quickly out the back***

 **P.S: Sorry for the long author's note, I just wanted a proper farewell message.**


	9. Chapter 9: Despair

(I am kindly asking all of you to please read this important authors note to the end) **A/N: I hadn't planned on the trip and recuperation from finals to take so long, but they did. I want to give a shout out to all the new followers I _received while I was away. Welcome to 177A Bleecker Street! I hope you all enjoy your stay:D For the longer residents,including guests, thank you for all the love you've shown this fic and the writer as well. Your comments really warm my heart and soul :D I_ am so excited to be back and writing this chapter was, I admit a guilty pleasure, but I was in the mood to take this section of ficlets a little further and explore more character development and of course, more fluff!**

 **I do have a sad confession to make as well. The other reason why I took so long to update was because my baby, adorable floofer, and last furry love of my life, is dead. My cat Sassy died just last week and I couldn't write at all no matter how hard I tried. I have lost two pets within six months :'( But writing this chapter has actually helped me heal, strangely enough. So I hope you enjoy this chapter and its last continuation which will be posted soon after this before I continue with the single chapters. :) And one last thing, Thank you Ista for the sweet and well-thought out review :D You made me smile when I desperately needed it. And thank you all, including guests for your reviews and for the lovely chapter ideas. I wrote a few of them up to include later in the series. Enjoy the fruits of my tears!**

* * *

Chapter 9: Despair

~S~

Stephen is in the middle of trying to wriggle free of his constraints when a sudden onslaught of fear overtakes him. He grips the sides of the chair, hard, gritting his teeth against the emotional pain which incites a single tear to streak down his cheek, the salt water slightly burning his cuts.

"W- Where did that come from?" Stephen mumbled under his breath. The doctor hadn't been thinking any dismal thoughts or bleak outcomes, at that moment anyway, so the very extreme reaction shouldn't have happened at all.

Come to think of it, this entire incident could have been avoided if Stephen had listened to that still small voice to rip the cloak away from the deceased sorcerer's bones while he still had the chance.

Oh, how he wished he had listened…

Strange shuddered as he thought about the... device. He had only felt such pain with his damage nerves, and even then it was numbed by the meds. When he was killed in an infinite loop of time by Dormammu, he felt only a split second of agony or when it took longer, a whole second. Strange still remembers that second seeming like a whole minute as his heart shut down and his lungs collapsed from being speared by the piers of wood. Definitely a very unpleasant experience he hoped to never have to repeat.

One thing he gleaned from the experiences, though, was gratitude for painkillers. The doctor was always going to be more grateful for the invention of anesthesia in the future, that was for sure.

Many times before the accident, he had watched or read stories in the news about unfortunate patients who had been horrifyingly awake during their painful surgeries due to mistakes by the anesthesiologist. From that day on, this revelation made Strange much more consistent in checking the dosage for his patients, which as you could guess, didn't get on well with the I'm-an-expert, types.

But the sour rebuttals went mostly unnoticed. All the effort was for the good of the patient, not the doctor. At least, it was until Strange got a taste of the fame. After that, his eyes could only see dollar signs where the patients lied. He remembered even refusing to operate if the operation wasn't going to be challenging enough or if he didn't have an audience.

But on the day of the car crash, Strange had felt true pain and experienced what it was like for his world to be taken away from him because no one could fix him. Just as he had refused to fix others.

Every day, he grew more accepting of his condition. Reflections of his previous life of sparkling, but now sickening fame were gradually helping him let go of it all. Because even though he was disgusted by the terrible human being he used to be, he would occasionally be drawn to either an expensive watch on a businessman's wrist, or a fancy waxed Porsche parked on the curb. Whatever it was, a small part of him longed to have that again, longed to have the unbending sense of security that wealth brought.

But he supposed the imprint of being a billionaire would last forever no matter how many times he scrubbed away at it like a piece of sea-glass, polished but unbroken even by the years of submersion in the ocean.

Strange's thoughts bring one previously obscured, to life.

The cloak.

He remembered the sound of it frantically flapping before his captors slammed the door and the helplessness of not being able to do a damn thing about it.

 _What were they doing to it now?_

Stephen shrugged his head back into the wood, hopelessly, but as he did so, he saw a small gap in between the arm rest and the cord that tied down his legs.

 _It must've gone unnoticed._

Taking a look to make sure no one was coming, Stephen managed to pull his hand from one of the restraints and then bent sideways to reach the knot tied to one of the back legs. It took some patience, but with some maneuvering, he managed it.

The entire task was a simple matter of finding each knot and untying them and glancing at the door to make sure no one came.

Then he was free. Well, partly. He still had to find a way to get them both away from the medical psychos and off the planet.

Brushing off the remains of the cords, Strange cracked the door open and when the coast was clear, snuck out.

* * *

The cloak awoke to numbness.

Its corporeal self tried to fight it, but the drug the doctors administered was very strong.

Unexpectedly, a pair of hands reached in towards the artifact, trying to grab it. The cloak managed to curl up cautiously against the far end of the containment field even under the influence of the drug to get out of range.

But the hands still persisted towards it.

The cloak stayed as still as possible in case the creature was blind to movement, every last inch of it pressed tightly to the glass. But the next moment, the cloak felt itself roughly grabbed. It couldn't be taken down again when Stephen needed to be rescued, needed to be free of its mistake. The chosen one was in danger and needed help, fast.

Being fashioned from pure energy, gave the artifact a substantial edge over whatever was draining its energy and it had the ability to push past the barrier of the drugs. With one flick of its fabric, the cloak threw the creature in the white lab coat into the plated glass window and knocked him unconscious.

Still, one thing remained to deal with before it was free.

Crawling, (in the full sense of the word) over to the left-most part of the containment field, the cloak lifted one of its flaps parallel to the electric red eye. The power it gave off was enormous as it sent waves of ultraviolet light that hummed in the air before they equally dispersed around it.

This technologically advanced device was never meant to be shared with anyone, or the knowledge that was misused into making it. This device was in all sense, an abomination to the ancient one and every student who practices the true mystic arts.

The reason for such rare knowledge to be kept secret in the first place was and still is for the good of magic itself. And as such, only the ancient one and a chosen few who passed the most testing of all the teacher's methods knew of its existence.

If only she knew of the abomination.

Something sparked. The day's entire events were connected like a maze of pipes to a single source. This planet was filled with murderers of its kind. The cloak had been so enraptured in mourning Ithrana, that it never bothered to think about the others. Scores of other bones were lying in the dirt, and chances were that they had all been killed on that planet. But not right away.

For these foul creatures to have obtained their knowledge, some of them must have been tortured. For they would not have given it willingly.

The cloak went into a rage that had never been equaled in all its existence and smashed the electric eye to pieces, shooting out through the door. The cloak sensed that Stephen had found a way to escape, so the first priority was to find him and get him to safety, then, to warn the soldiers of Kama-taj.

Floating high above potential radar systems, the cloak swept every floor for the chosen. The doctors never spotted anything out of the ordinary, even when it literally swooped under their nose. So they were partially blind to fast moving objects after all.

While flying over the last section of the building, the cloak sees a suspicious character in blue scrubs walking slowly in the hall from where Stephen was being kept.

But before striking, the cloak got a glimpse his eyes. They were glistening with moisture and… kind and powerful. And after extending its senses to pinpoint Stephen, the cloak recognized something else. The energy surrounding him could have only belonged to one man. The Sorcerer Supreme. Stephen had escaped the doctors.

"Hey, there will be plenty of time to do that later. We need to escape right now," Stephen complained endearingly to the cloak's expression of relief and a moment later, held out his arms in front of him for protection as he started to fall.

"Whoah!"

But the cloak held him tight and lifted Stephen into the air before he even had a chance of falling.

"Do you think you could have done that more carefully next time?" Stephen grumbled, only to get the crisp sound of fabric snapping in the air.

The doctor kept an eye out as he was carted around and occasionally hidden behind a plant or trash bin every so often. But he couldn't think about how boring it was, for something caught his eye. The cloak still only lifted him a few inches off the ground.

Strange once thought that it was because of certain circumstances, but now after scouring much of the building, he was growing suspicious that the reasons were much more different.

He wished he hadn't been right, but when the doctor was suddenly dropped to the ground, that was the only reason it could be. Something was weakening or had weakened the cloak.

Strange believed that this reason accounted for the flapping sound earlier. But that wasn't important to dwell on right now, as another figure was fast approaching.

Quickly, Strange ducked behind the desk near a few potted ferns and waited. His eyes panicked and his heart beating heavily. This figure had tortured him and by the looks of it, had just returned from that very room and wasn't happy.

The man suddenly screamed an alert, warning everyone of his disappearance and about a dozen doctors poured out of a few adjoining examining rooms and followed the leader of the group as they dispersed.

Stephen waited till the coast was clear before running off in search of a way out, knowing his chances were better if he wasn't hiding behind a puny desk the entire time.

His heart panged with relief as he spotted a door with a brightly lit green exit sign above it.

The color was a bit strange, nothing like the exit signs back on earth, but with no time to ponder any other options Stephen swung the door open and whisked inside.

Stephen spotted about two-dozen locks attached to every side of the doorway. He furrowed his brows, confused, but the calm feeling of safety coerced him into latching every one of them a second later before he slid down to a sitting position on the ground taking a moment to breathe.

The cloak wrapped around his shoulders like a coat, which Stephe had learned to recognize as the cloak's attempt to console him.

The doctor noticed his friend trembled a little.

Was it a side-effect of losing strength, or was it fear? Strange had very little idea which one created such unease. But he knew the garment responded to questions.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

The cloak didn't move a muscle.

This was odd behavior for it. It was almost as if it was... depressed.

Stephen received the answer when he felt velvet material delicately rub around his wound.

Guilt. The cloak was feeling guilty. And Stephen wasn't powerless to do anything about it.

The cloak felt its chosen one's energy make contact with its own and immediately fell limp onto his shoulders.

It was a comforting, soothing sensation that healed all past trauma of the needle, electric eye, or even fear it felt through those ordeals. Strange's slightly shaky, but tentative hand also enhanced the feeling of safety as well as it brushed softly against the velvety crimson fabric and his voice and kind words were very hard not to believe.

However, the cloak had stranded them on this planet and everything that happened was its own fault. Nothing could sway it to think otherwise.

But its chosen at least deserved a false sense of the cloak's resigned guilt.

The metal cuffs on Strange's wrists caught the light a few times from the skylights with each movement, causing Stephen's heart to pick up.

However, the cloaks small stirrings as he stroked the crimson wonder incited Strange to smile once again and gave him a sense of pride that he could repay all the kind deeds the cloak did for him, once in awhile.

Stephen didn't know why, but in that precise moment, he glances to the door. It was silly to do so. He knew he was safe for the time being, but he supposed, on the other hand, that if the planet's expertise extended to locksmithing, he wouldn't be for very long.

Still, there might be a chance.

Without warning, the cloak stiffened back from being a proverbial puddle and draped all of itself over his chest and legs.

The doctor had seen the cloak take on this protective behavior enough times to take it seriously. _He had been found._

"You know what I always say Dale, human's are as predictable as mice."

The shocking tone of voice urges Stephen to jump to his feet.

"You lead them to a seemingly false safety when they're in trouble and they follow. I always knew that those pesky red exit signs were the complete opposite to the human thought process and this man has proved me right."

Stephen turned his head to the direction of the voice and saw two men, both clad in blue scrubs. One of them who appeared to be the boss continued speaking.

"I mean come on, everyone knows that green is a color that means proceed and red means turn back. Not to mention, the very pathetic fact that locks make humans feel secure. So I find myself asking why hasn't any of those worms of Earth seen my vision?"

"It's Doctor Wyett, by the way." The man held out a hand to Strange, but it wasn't received.

In response to this, Wyett put his index finger to the side of his head, a thoughtful but obviously mocking expression following. "Well, they are worms after all, so I guess they can't do much but dig and consume their weight in garbage." He let out a guffaw and turned towards Strange who was in the pointless process of undoing the locks.

The other doctor continued. "You know, your brain is fascinating. The neurons fire at near perfect speeds and the capacity of knowledge that's inside it is almost like a treasure box isn't it."

"How do you know about the human brain?" Strange questioned.

Doctor Wyett feigned an insulted look. "Please, we have scanners all throughout this building. What you, former neurosurgeon call, MRI's, only…" He holds two fingers apart. "slightly more advanced than yours."

Forgetting the fact that they somehow knew his previous profession, Strange needed to try and play along. Perhaps if he got the guy talking long enough, he'd reveal the exit to the building somehow." When I was searching, you were…."

He grinned. "That little theater performance was top-notch, wasn't it. Well, you can thank our geneticist for working that out. You see, here the equality is unequaled. We are far more advanced and similar than those war monkeys of earth. We've even recently solved all problems of violence here. Everyone coexists with each other in harmony.

Stephen's eyes widened. "Then if you are so advanced, why are there piles of bones scattered outside?"

"Oh, I assure you that those were completely purposeful."

Wyett began pacing. "We've been trying for years to reason with them when your kind came to this planet, but their tongues were just too tight and… we had to loosen them."

Stephen finally turned around to face him, his shaking hands balled knuckle-white. "You tortured them?"

The man rolled his eyes and walked towards him. "When a person feels in control, they are easy to subdue."

Stephen winced as something sharp pierced his neck.

Before he was completely out, Stephen heard the man whisper something about a surgery and felt the cloak ripped from his back before firm hands gripped him.

 _What now?_

* * *

Sure enough, Strange awoke in the expected kind of place, but not exactly in the same position. He was lying flat on some kind of examination table, his hands and feet were pinned down by leather straps and bolted in place to the table, and a certain soft familiar presence was absent from him.

Swallowing a lump of nerves, Strange craned his neck to the right to see a very heartbreaking picture in front of him.

The cloak was stretched to its limits on a table, with some kind of clamps holding it in place so it couldn't have a chance of even lightly fluttering. Or coming to his rescue. Stephen couldn't help but think the last part, but alien worlds were still out of his comfort zone more than he would like, so having the cloak beside him(technically behind him) helped stay his often nervous disposition.

But from the looks of it, they were both up a creek without a paddle.

Laying his head back on the cold steel, Strange forced himself to calm down as his heart rate was abnormally high. Short bursts of it were fine, but prolonged arrhythmias were hazardous to health and would make everything much worse in the long run. He never ever wanted nightmares of this insanity.

Strange clenched his knuckles as the door swung open and scowled as menacingly as he could at the figure who approached him.

The man seemed to not even notice. "You are one lucky human today. We've been perfecting our knowledge and technique for years, all to prepare for this moment."

 _Knowledge, technique. Oh no... they didn't mean..._

Wyatt chuckled. "Yes, now you are getting it. This room has been prepared for our first test subject in an innovative step towards understanding the meat inside that head of yours."

Strange wanted to scream and tried to break through his restraints to get the hell out of there, but all he ended up doing is looking like a seal stuck on dry land trying to wriggle its way to the ocean. No amount of struggle did anything to loosen his bindings this time.

The doctor hovering near him tilted his head in confusion, frowning. "Why are you trying to escape? Being chosen is a great honor..."

No, it's not great. It's horrible and painful and against my free will. Not to mention, I don't want to die either, which is what will happen if you do this operation while I'm awake. That's why we put our patients to sleep before we operate on them.

"What. Is. Pain?"

Stephen wasn't the least bit surprised at the question. These creatures may be technologically advanced, but their lack of knowledge of human beings was expected and easily noticeable. Strange proceeded to answer his question.

"It's a very unpleasant sensation we experience if we cut or injure ourselves in some way. "And judging by those tools on that table, you don't plan on the surgery being painless." The doctor was almost seething by the end of the sentence, but he kept most of the anger out of his voice to be more effective in swaying the mad scientist into letting them go.

Wyett looked skeptic, making it clear he didn't believe him.

Stephen just kept at it. "You have to believe me. Don't do any more surgeries on humans, I'll bring a medical book from my home and a practice dummy you can saw in half for all I care. Just let me go and I'll go get them."

The man frowned. "I'm not to be taken for a fool.. doctor. If I let you leave here, then we both know that you won't come back."

His voice rose before Strange could reply. "Don't bother denying that fact. And don't offer me crumbs when I have a feast right here strapped to my table." A young woman in her 20's walked inside, strands of blond hair bouncing on her shoulders which framed her linear cheeks perfectly as she stood next to Wyett.

Stephen might have thought she was attractive if it weren't for being strapped to a table against his will for crazy alien brain surgery and the very prominent three nostrils. She must have been one of their failed experiments, Stephen thinks, trying to hold back his disgust.

Stephen hears the doctor order the nurse to prep him.

He screams...

Or more accurately, screams his lungs out while kicking and squirming as much as he can. Someone had to hear him, the cloak had to hear him.

The doctor turns his head as he hears one of the metal braces crack in half and disintegrate.

Hope of being rescued was deteriorating fast. The cloak looked almost dead, Stephen's cuffs were still draining power from his body and whatever power that managed to break through when he screamed, was too weak to do anything. He was really going to die this time.

 _"She's dead, Stephen. Whatever you thought you saw and felt was just your mind playing tricks on you. The ancient one's energy was devoured by Dormammu. Her fate is forever sealed."_

Wong's bitter words cut deep and Stephen's eyes well up with tears as he whispers to the only one that could save him now. "Ancient one, teacher, if you can hear me, I need help."

* * *

 **Well, do you think the Ancient one will come? Or is she only just a hallucination of Stephen's own thought process after all?**


	10. Chapter 10: Eye of the Needle

**I would be lying if I said that the very large pile of reviews, follows, and what not, clogging up my inbox didn't give me the drive to update faster, so I'm truthfully saying that it absolutely played a big role in this newly published chapter. Thank you all for your incredible commitment to this story, and also, to a very proud and grateful author:D Lastly, this chapter is set with the last one, but they are both behind in** time **of chapter 2. Without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 10: The Eye of the Needle

~S~

Strange closed his eyes.

It was always clear to him that his physical form held no permanence, but of all the ways to die, it would have never occurred to him that torturous brain surgery would be the way he would go.

His heart was beating extremely fast now. At least, he thinks, the brain doesn't feel pain. The _worst_ part will be the incisions.

Stephen could feel a scalpel moving towards his head.

This was it.

The cloak was incapacitated beyond any hope, and the ancient one had obviously been a hallucination, considering no help had come in two days. He was really going to die this time and he was terrified.

And just when his relationship with Christina was starting to heat up again. Shame.

Time stood still.

A firm voice spoke.

"After all this time. You're still looking through that narrow keyhole."

Strange jumped at the sudden voice, turning his head as far as it would go in search of the source.

His teacher's words were not long forgotten, but Strange was starting to think he'd hallucinated her exact soft, yet firm voice, when he turned out to be completely alone.

"No, you're not hallucinating," The voice replied.

The doctor scrunched his forehead, slightly worried that his hallucinations were gaining more intelligence as he did. "Prove it. No hallucination is physical, so touch me and I'll believe you."

"Very well."

Strange felt a hand grasp his arm.

"Is this alright?"

"Yeah," Strange replied. He then thought of her first words to him and decided to address her statement. "What did you mean when you said I'm still looking through a narrow keyhole?"

The voice began. "Your actions have shown where you place your abilities."

Stephen spoke in an irritated manner. "What do you mean my actions? I haven't been able to do much of anything with this voodoo shackle on my wrist! It's made me completely powerless."

"The shackle on your wrist is carved with powerful ruins, but your power is much greater."

Stephen frowned at this. "Much greater?… Then how come I couldn't break free of its so called, lesser power?"

"For the same reason others before you have not. You doubted in your abilities."

The voice paused for a few moments as if sensing Strange was going to need more to go on. "Your power relies on your mind."

"Wait, so if I believed I could have knocked out the guard, I would have? That's very shaky mechanics."

The voice of the Ancient one sounded as if she was smiling. "Not as shaky as you might think. Power must have... a safety switch, if you will. Haven't you ever had fights with Wong and thought about getting back at him in some way?"

Stephen wondered where she was going with this, but answered truthfully. "..Sometimes."

"It was your lack of full will and belief to follow through that prevented you from using your abilities in such a manner. And in this circumstance, it was your lack of will that prevented you from breaking free of your confines."

"So in order for my abilities to work, I need to have both true will and belief. That's not gonna get old anytime soon," Strange finished, sarcastically.

"Be that as it may, it is necessary," the voice replied.

Stephen took a breath and craned his head to the shackles latching his legs, arms, and head. "How come I can't see you?"

"There is no need. Now go, Mr. Strange. Free yourself and the cloak and escape from this place."

Rather than immediately doing what was asked of him, Strange needed a moment of introspection. _What if his alien pals had decided to trick him and impersonate the ancient one. Did they have the technology or even the knowledge of her voice?_ Deciding to continue on that note later, Strange decided now was likely his last time to escape. He spoke with fear in his voice, but there was also strength in it as well. "Alright, here goes."

Stephen focused on believing in his power, which was not an easy thing even with his mind. And of course, the scalpel hovering over his head did make him a tad nervous. But despite the distraction, power was once again coursing through every vein, like an electrified river. A few minutes later, he was rewarded with the sound of clanging metal and muffled sounds of leather smacking the floor.

Time resumed its normal speed.

Stephen used the distraction to kick the surgeon closest to his head, in the face, and slammed another unconscious against the other table, readying his light whip just in case others wanted to join in.

A moment of recoil gave Strange just enough time to smash the restraints that held the cloak and without hesitation, the cloak immediately attached itself to Stephen's shoulders, smacking another alien to the floor with its train before she could harm Stephen.

But unfortunately, the cloak didn't see the one hiding under the table.

"That was close," Strange muttered. "I think we should…"

Strange screamed in pain as a large blade sliced through the skin of his right calf.

Clutching the deep gash in his leg, he kicks the alien responsible square in the mouth, right into the legs of another operating table, causing a loud clatter as the instruments came crashing down with it.

There are just two more aliens left, and to the doctor's amazement, the cloak suddenly flies off his shoulders and tackles both aliens at once.

While the cloak was busy, Strange beheld the destruction, silently. These wicked creatures were responsible for so much damage; to his kind, and likely countless others who made the unfortunate travel. As such, while standing over their bodies, strange began to feel very confused.

These wicked creatures were responsible for so much damage; to his kind, and likely countless others who made the unfortunate travel. As such, while standing over their bodies, Strange began to feel very confused.

 _Why hadn't these people been wiped from existence?_

 _Surely, at the very least, they deserve that punishment. The ancient one was aware of their treachery. Why hadn't she destroyed them with one thought?_

Stephen felt the soft caress of velvet squeezing him harder than usual- though the pressure wasn't uncomfortable. It was almost as if the cloak was using as much of its magical strength to hold onto the man without hurting him.

The action caused a spark of emotion, but Strange suppressed it and gently lifted the hem covering half of his body and squeezed it, reciprocating the kind action the only way he knew how.

As Stranged unconsciously backed up against the table, a loud metallic clatter makes him jump.

Catching up with his breath, however, Strange investigates. And upon turning around, something unexpected, graces hm. Low and behold, a metal tray was lying on the floor off-kilter from its normal upright position. His heel must have been stepped on the rim of the same metal tray.

"It's alright, I just stepped on something," he whispered.

One good thing comes out of the disturbance, though. In the midst of feeling sheepish, the action serves as a reminder of something.

More of their kind would be coming soon to investigate the racket. Also, his throbbing leg needed to be cleaned before an infection started forming.

Conclusion: They needed to get the hell out of there.

Stephen struggled against the pain as his shaky hand relieved the sling ring from a concealed outer pocket of his robe, and then as fast as possible, he opened a portal to the Sanctum. The portal itself, was very weak and failed the second Stephen and the cloak entered it, but they entered, none the less.

The cloak was vigilant as they traveled between worlds, watching the quick flashes of rainbow hues streak past them as worlds known and unknown passed underneath.

Something familiar soon comes into view; Its shades of violets and regal browns and greens are a comforting reminder to the cloak that they were almost home.

Sure enough, warm air and the smell of freshly baked Christmas cookies sweetly assaults the Cloak's senses and it becomes overjoyed when the interior of the sanctum comes into view.

But something wasn't right.

Stephen's body was now shaking, and felt as cold as ice, even through his clothes.

As if things couldn't get any worse; Stephen loses all balance as well as consciousness, and falls.

But the cloak is there to catch him before he hits the ground.

* * *

 **It's been about 3 months since I really wrote anything, so I hope this chapter wasn't too shabby of a read and still captured what most of you expected. As for you double-hurt fans, don't think I've forgotten you. Remember, Stephen has been injured by an alien creature. Who knows what that entails... Well, I do, since I'm the writer, but don't think it's something small ;)**

 **Anyway,** every one **of you** have **been incredibly patient and I would like to thank you very very very much for that. I also want to deeply thank those of you that got me through the death of my pets. It was a hard time for me and I'm extremely lucky to have you all, and I though I am very much behind on replying to reviews, I will be reaching every one as soon as I can. *Sprinkles heart emojis on everybody*** Ptss **... these ones are candy.**

 **P.S. Update in about a month, at the latest.**


	11. Chapter 11: Threading The Needle

**A/N: (To all those impatient for the chapter, please skip to the second to last line of this note.) My goodness! There are no words to describe how sorry I am for taking so long to update this story. As many of you know,** **college has taken up nearly all of my time, considering I had over 20 credit hours to complete to get into my dream college. But it was all worth it because I got in! Now getting back to the subject of tardiness, I also had 3 unfortunate visits to the emergency room a few months ago for something I thought was deadly, but just turned out to be about 10 bones in my spine and neck that had been dislocated due to a surfing injury about a year ago. I could go into more detail, but I'm sure that you would much rather read the chapter than listen** **to me drone on about myself. I will lastly say that your kind words over these hard months helped me get through a lot of my problems, and it also made it torturously hard not to write. In any case, thank you all for your thoughts :D I'll try to respond to every one of you; except the guests of course :( Just always know that you guests are as important to me as the members here. Again, this chapter is no more T rated than the movie, but it is sure to take your emotions for a terrifying spin. For the double hurt/comfort fans, I'm sorry, but this chapter doesn't have that level of hurt in it, but it should still be a hard read for you. However, I do have a real double hurt/comfort chapter planned for the future that's sure to satisfy all your sadistic needs ;) Please enjoy the fruits of my labor!**

* * *

Chapter 11: Threading The Needle

~S~

Previously: Stephen's body was now shaking, and felt as cold as ice, even through his clothes. As if things couldn't get any worse, Stephen loses all balance as well as consciousness and falls.

But the cloak is there to catch him before he hits the ground.

Transpiring now...

"Stephen!" Wong exclaimed, immediately running to the doctor's side.

The cloak pulled Stephen's unconscious body away with a small jerk.

Wong frowned angrily at this and just stared at the cloak. "Now is not the time for games, he could be dying. Hand him over to me."

The cloak kept undulating in mid air, turning its sights from the librarian over to the exit.

Wong knew exactly what the crafty piece of fabric was up to and unless he could convince the cloak to perceive him as a friend the garment was going to abduct Stephen, potentially killing him.

The librarian tried to reason with it. "Look, I won't hurt him. You can trust me, I'm his friend too.

The cloak listened to what Wong was saying, but didn't exactly have faith in the man. While it was true that Wong had a kind heart and a good soul, he was still lacking in his ability to make crucial decisions. Decisions that the cloak knew needed to be made right this second. But as fate or design would have it, Stephen's injuries were admittedly beyond the cloak's limited expertise. The only options were trusting Wong or escape.

The cloak looked even more uneasy and took another glance at the Sanctum door.

Wong frowned. He was losing this battle. He took a risky step forward. "I care about him too… but if you don't let me help him you may lose your "friend" -still wasn't completely comfortable making that comparison.

Wong's last words seemed to finally coerce the cloak, as the garment slowly floated over, relinquishing its cherished possession over to the librarian.

He nodded his thanks and faced the cloak. "Help me get him into bed."

The cloak was very eager to help and carried Strange alone, leaving Wong to walk himself inside the room. But before the cloak tried to cover him with itself, Wong stopped it.

"I need to examine him for possible injuries first."

The cloak was first taken aback, but then seemed to understand and just floated quietly above them.

The librarian's search began at the head and moved downward towards his arms, and finally his legs. The chunk of flesh removed from his arm had in every way seemed like the cause of the problem, but it was healthy; no infections and no signs of blood poisoning to be found. Granted, Wong wasn't a doctor, nor did he have the medical training required to make an in depth and more accurate analysis. But he was learned in one very particular area more than anyone at the Sanctum. Alien weapons and instruments.

The alien weapon used was called a Flux ionizer.

"Stay here with him. I'm going below to get some supplies," Wong directed.

The cloak waited for the click of a door before floating down to Stephen.

The garment tensed when Stephen's face twisted momentarily, and it spotted a bead of sweat traveling down his forehead. If the cloak could express its anxiety in a human way by crying by his bedside, it would most definitely be doing that already because nothing could cut it deeper than seeing its chosen hurt and dying. But, considering its limited expressions the cloak satiated itself by resting on Stephen's chest until Wong came back.

The librarian's footsteps were heard pounding up the stairs about fifteen minutes later and he came in covered in cobwebs and dust carrying a silver tray filled with an assortment of green and black bottles and syringes that had the cloak staring curiously at them.

"Sorry it took me so long. I haven't been down there in 50 years," Wong clarified while setting the equipment down on the table two feet behind his bed. He then began the meticulous task of brushing off the cobwebs from himself, but briefly walked outside to shake off the dust from his clothes before coming back to the room. He didn't want to pollute the air and worsen the doctor's condition.

It wasn't until Wong had finished unpacking everything that he noticed where the cloak was settled.

A sigh forced itself out of him as he came to grips with his lack of control over the situation. He supposed It wasn't detrimental for Stephen's chest to be clear at that moment. The cloak could stay there a while longer.

With everything set up, he first cut away Stephen's pants up to his upper calf, which was too swelled up to use any other methods. When he finished uncovering the wound, he saw that it was deeper than he initially thought; an angry long red line extending from his ankle to his upper calf that was caused by a poisoned knife. And going by the greenish puss inside, the doctor didn't have long.

Wong grabbed two medicinal vials and poured them generously on the wound.

It started to fizz and foam up until the edges of the wound weren't visible. The poison appeared to be dying.

Wong let out a breath of relief and turned towards the human blanket that had become Mr. Strange. It… he was breathing smoother now. The librarian reached to pull the cloak aside so he could see the doctor's face.

The garment gave him a quick swat on the hand...

"Hey! Don't do that I have to see his face," he yelled.

Wong moved his hand again and was rewarded by another quick swat.

Wong muttered to himself. "Why couldn't another artifact have chosen Stephen? The Belt of Circese would never do this. The dagger of Amerise is polite. Why did _you_ have to choose him?"

Wong tried once more to pull back the persistent cloak and again, he was slapped on the hand. This time it was hard enough to make him fall to the ground.

The librarian grunted angrily as he picked himself up. "You really are a fickle thing… either let me see his face or I'll remove you permanently."

The cloak jolted like it was startled by Wong's words and slowly peeled itself away, revealing Stephen's face. The color was thankfully returning to his skin and what's more, he was starting to come to.

just as Wong waited for his eyes to fully open, they snapped shut again and his body started to convulse.

The librarian shouted at the cloak. "You see what you've done by this foolishness? If I had gotten to him sooner…" The cloak suddenly flew upward and then jolted again, but it was more of a quivering jump of fear than surprise.

Wong shrugged his anger away for the time being. "Never mind," he replied and held his arms out in front of him over Strange. Stephen's entire body turned translucent so Wong could see the path of the poison more clearly. Most of it was near his heart, but the rest was still by his ribs but moving fast. He didn't have long.

Wong turned to the cloak who was currently sulking near the ceiling. "We have no time for your moods. Keep him still for me," Wong ordered.

The cloak turned in time to see the librarian readying a terrifying instrument that the garment had been privy to see used only a handful of times over the centuries.

"Don't even think about it."

The cloak slowly retracted the flap that was aimed to knock the instrument from Wong's hand.

This was not what he expected to ever be doing. Since his arrival 40 years ago, he had only been tasked with keeping up with his studies, and when he got a little older and more practiced in his magic, training the students at Kamatajr. It wasn't until the library's former guardian was beheaded that he then became the next guardian. But still, no matter the length of his service, the closest he ever came to applying medical knowledge was bandaging his own superficial wounds from amateur thieves looking to expand their spell repertoire.

There was no bandage in his hand now, but a syringe filled with a magical antidote with a five-inch long needle that was hovering over his dying friend's chest. Mistakes couldn't be made this time. All that he had was the limited medical knowledge that filled the books in the sanctum's library, and his own intellect to work through whatever would happen. Not much when faced with such a daunting situation, but he supposed it was better than having nothing.

The sound of Stephen's labored breathing and the springs of the bed creaking loudly from his much more violent convulsions worked to push the librarian out of his hesitant mind and into doctor mode.

Wong took a short breath in to prepare himself and stabbed the syringe into Stephen's chest where the poison was concentrated the most.

The cloak latched on hard to the doctor's still form.

The librarian had to cringe as he felt the needle slowly tearing through multiple layers of flesh, not used to the feeling, but he kept steady pressure on it as it descended deeper into his chest, though his hands shook slightly.

It only took about a minute to reach the poison and then he released the antidote at a much slower but consistent pace to help Stephen's body better absorb the substance instead of overwhelming it; as he had learned from his recent readings.

There was just two more minute's worth of antidote left to be administered. Wong saw the blackness around Stephen's heart starting to dissolve and the green puss that was oozing from the wound on his leg was dissipating.

Wong felt a warmth surge within him as Stephen's convulsions were stopping as well. Stephen was no longer dying because of him. The thought brought a bright smile to his face and he felt proud that he was able to keep a cool head in a crisis of an alien caliber. Quite literally.

Turning his head to see if the doctor had awakened, Wong caught sight of something truly heartbreaking.

The cloak had wrapped itself around every square inch of Stephen's chest that it could, allowing two of its flaps to latch onto one of Stephen's sides, while the other was gently stroking his cheek.

Wong nearly burst out with: No No he's alive! But then he thought better of it seeing how it would most definitely startle the poor thing. Instead, he spoke softly. "I was successful in removing the poison. He's going to be fine."

The cloak perked up and turned toward him. It then did the unexpected and brushed a small part of itself over Stephen's closed eyes.

Wong caught the reference. "He is alive, but he just hasn't awoken yet. Give him time."

"Who can stay dead with all this racket?"

The sound of Strange's overused, but rumbling voice grasped both their attentions.

"Stephen, you're awake," Wong said, in a more relieved than happy tone. He very nearly rushed over to him before being thankfully reminded that he was still grasping the now empty syringe and hypodermic needle that needed to be kept still and removed in twenty seconds.

The familiar rumble of the chest beneath the garment was the first sign. The second was words produced from it and both stirred the cloak to awareness from its mourning.

The first thing Stephen saw when he cracked his eyes open was red. "And I see you've made yourself at home again."

The cloak surged with great joy and soared up in the air, doing a few twirls before landing gracefully on the doctor's chest again.

"Yes, I missed you too. Now please let go of my face."

When the cloak moved away from his field of vision, Stephen could clearly see Wong's fingers grasped around the plunger of a syringe… and it was sticking out of his chest

"I take it that I interrupted something," he remarked.

"Yes, this part would be easier with you passed out," Wong replied.

"Oh, well sorry for coming back to life at an inconvenient time."

Stephen smirked, but Wong's brow creased with concern. "Seriously though, how do I do this with you conscious?" He thought for a moment. "I could knock you out?"

Stephen waved him off. "No no, that won't be necessary. I'll just leave my body until you're done."

"Um, Stephen your normal enzymes have been altered, which will make this a lot more painful."

Stephen was too busy working on separating his astral form from his physical form to hear the librarian's voice..

Wong waited for Stephen's astral body to separate from the tangible one. He carefully watched the doctor's tense expressions, frowning when his skin grew taught again. "It's not working, Stephen."

Strange opened his eyes, meeting Wong's. "Why isn't it?"

Wong spoke solemnly. "I believe the poison weakened your magic."

"Great."

Wong sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Not knock me out. Just pull it out. I should be fine."

The librarian gave him a questionable look. "Stephen, did you not hear me? Your body isn't producing normal enzymes right now which will make this a lot more painful. The needle has to be removed, but preferably with you unconscious." He narrowed his eyes. "And believe me, you want to be unconscious."

Stephen stared him down. "I'll be fine. I've had a lot of experience with pain.

Wong still wasn't satisfied. "I could have the cloak smack you with this metal tray." He pointed to the tray.. "Or the cloak could just hit you on the head. It knocked me to my feet for just trying to move it out of the way not too long ago."

The cloak did a dramatic turn from the librarian, settling on the edge of Stephen's right shoulder in a sort of peeved sitting position.

"Cross that off then." Stephen's voice was tight with laughter as he turned toward Wong again who appeared to be keeping his laughter at bay as well, however little it was.

Stephen met his friend's worried gaze. "Well? On with it then."

With Stephen turning down every option, Wong had no choice and began slowly pulling the needle out.

Stephen groaned and inhaled and exhaled sharply as the stinging pain in his chest worsened exponentially. This spooked the cloak and it took only a second for the realization to take effect and it was naturally settled on Stephen's chest again, gently squeezing him.

"I tried to warn you," Wong said, pausing in his movements.

The doctor spoke through clenched teeth. "Keep going."

Wong obeyed and pulled the needle out even slower, before being stopped.

"No. Don't go slow. Pull it out as fast as you can." In truth, he hadn't expected so much pain, no matter what Wong said about bodily enzymes… It was just a needle. A long needle, but that should have been making much of a difference. None the less, there was the very prominent feeling of the needle scraping up his dry skin. Dry. His blood flow must have been affected by the poison, not his enzymes. _What kind of poison was on that knife?_

Something soft and velvety grasped his hand tightly, which took him out of his thoughts. _Of course._

But the cloak was trembling.

Normally, something as superficial as this wouldn't cause the cloak to tremble. Strange had been through much worse and the garment never showed its fear to that extent. And it wasn't Strange eliciting this response. As far as he knew, anyway. Perhaps the Cloak suffered more in their three days of captivity than he was aware of. After all, they were separated for a few hours.

A new spark of pain pulled Stephen from his thoughts and he felt the cloak tremble a bit harder.

With the strength he could muster, Stephen gently placed his hand on the shaking garment on his chest and stroked it reassuringly. "It's okay," he crooned in that rich deep baritone that the cloak liked. He felt the cloak squeeze his hand in response.

Stephen breathed through the next waves of pain, strangely comforted by the garment atop his chest. And judging by now the small shivers from the cloak, it was also being calmed.

"One more inch."

Stephen closed his eyes, preparing himself. The last inch was going to hurt the worst, especially without much blood to lubricate the area.

Stephen tensed and bit his lip to keep from crying out, producing a strangled cry as the tip of the needle pulled out of his chest and he collapses on the bed from exhaustion.

Wong quickly pulled out some gauze from his robe and pressed it to the small hole in Stephen's chest before it bled, causing him to flinch. "Sorry about that," he said compassionately, but also in an assertive 'told you so kind of manner.'

Stephen just stared at him pensively while trying to return his breathing to its normal pace, while Wong cleaned the used supplies before promptly exiting the room.

While all the doctor wanted was to lie motionless in bed, these events served to remind Strange of his other injuries and his doctor side needed to be satiated.

Keeping the gauze pressed to his chest, Strange sat up to survey his other injuries.

The gash on his leg was... bleeding onto the bed. His blood flow must have returned to normal.

Stephen searched around for the gauze, but soon remembered that Wong had taken it along with the other supplies. Instead of just letting himself bleed all over the bed until Wong returned though, Stephen took the barely used gauze from his chest and placed it over his leg.

However, in the process of doing this, a drop of blood from his arm splashed onto his leg.

Stephen tried to shout. "Wong! Come back, I need the gauze again." But with no answer, he had no choice but take care of his injuries himself and decided to head to the bathroom to do it. The cloak floated off of him as Strange sat up and started for the door. His steps were shaky and blood was dripping down his arm and leg as he hobbled his way out of the room and just barely made it to the bathroom before he collapsed.

The cloak floated off of him as Strange sat up and started for the door. His steps were shaky and blood was dripping down his arm and leg as he hobbled his way out of the room and just barely made it to the bathroom before he collapsed.

The cloak had to float him over to the toilet so he could sit down, but thankfully Strange was able to put the lid down before he was placed there.

Grabbing two fist fulls of tissue paper, Strange pressed them to his wounds, causing him to wince.

Though he understood why he started to spontaneously bleed, Strange didn't feel right about something. It was more of a nagging sensation than something that was urging him to follow through.

The cloak, at this time, was hovering by the sink and facing him.

Stephen felt he needed to assure it somehow. "It's okay, the bleeding will stop soon."

 _The bleeding would stop soon and he could return back to his room. It could._

Ten minutes of pressure should have been enough for his blood to congeal again, but when Strange removed the tissue, blood pooled up again, now dripping onto the bathroom floor in larger amounts. This was getting out of hand now. If he continues to lose blood for too much longer, he is looking at a blood transfusion or even death if he can't find a way to stop it.

Seeing as the last option is very likely now, Strange makes up his mind about the only thing that should be done. He stands up and the cloak latches onto his shoulders again as he makes his way back to the room, or rather, floats back. The cloak must have sensed that his energy level is too low to make the trip himself.

Once inside the room, Stephen directs the cloak to float over to his dresser as he retrieves his sling ring, and then directs it to set him back down again.

By this time, Stephen's condition has worsened. His forehead is soaking, his breathing is shallow, his eyes getting slightly red and dark circles have formed under them.

Sensing its chosen's fading energy, the cloak didn't listen to his request and stayed hovering above the ground while Stephen fought to open a stable portal. It took a few tries, but a spark of gold soon ignited and carved a stable portal for travel.

Wong opened the bedroom door just as Stephen stepped through the portal, only catching a glimpse of the crimson cloak as the last sparks of the gateway dissipated in the air.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh no! Doctor Strange is dying! But why is he bleeding to death?**


	12. Chapter 12: Memories

**A/N: Okay, guys. This chapter is sorta a break from the main plot right now. Rest assured that I have everything worked out for the next chapter, I'm just having a hard time concentrating on anything that's not LOTR right now Lol. Those damn plot bunnies take some of the blame, but I have to award the majority of the points to my cracked scapula and dislocated shoulder and who knows what else. I will be finding out the extent of my injuries soon, so I'll likely be giving you many of you guys more detail in the author's note of a LOTR fanfic i'm writing. It's also quite painful to type right now :( Anyway, I dug up this little gem from my old collection box and polished it a little. It's not super long, but I decided that I would post it for you all instead of leaving you with no update for another month or so. Thank you IMMENSELY much for all the support! I'm so very honored by those of you who put me on their "favorite/follow author' list :D And THANK YOU followers and favoriters (hey, it's a word! I'm a writer, I should know:P) Please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 12: Memories

~S~

The frame shook in the doctor's unsteady hands.

He knew this was going to be a bad idea. It was as if all his grief was magnified 1000 times just from seeing her face again.

The frame itself was cold, gilding around a trusting and warm smile that always believed in him, even when Strange couldn't. Her eyes were burrowing into his soul once again, just like those extra ice-cream helpings on birthdays, and trips to the mall he would take her on when she became old enough.

And yes, nearly each and every one of those weren't voluntary, but he couldn't resist those pleading fawn-brown eyes. He was sure he would do next to anything under their power.

 _Wait six months, then I'll be your doctor._

 _.… I'm scared._

 _I know, but I promise that you won't feel anything once I put you to sleep._

 _The darkness will only be temporary._

 _..What if it isn't?_

 _It will be, trust me._

 _When you open your eyes you will be cured._

 _...Alright, I trust you, Stephen._

 _..._

Strange startled slightly as a tear splattered down onto her face. He hadn't noticed he had been crying and quickly wiped it away.

This time of year was always miserable for him. He had handled it pretty well throughout most of the day, but setting eyes on her photo was the last push over the edge.

But it wasn't as if he could just lock away his sister's memorabilia in some grungy small box and forget about her. Stephen needed to see her face, he felt like she was closer to him when he could see her.

It was more painful though.

He no longer felt responsible for her death. The Ancient One had purged his mind and heart of all the guilt it possessed by making him understand that there was nothing he could have done differently. His sister would have died on any table under the hands of any surgeon, because it was her soul's time to leave the Earth and transcend the physical plane.

At the time, Strange was slightly scared for his sister's wellbeing because he had glimpsed some of those planes of existence his master was referring to, but the Ancient one had seen his fear and assured him that her soul resided in a peaceful and beautiful place.

Thinking that thought, another tear streaked down his cheeks, for which he was lucid enough to wipe away before it reached his shirt.

Strange suddenly felt something akin to a warm blanket wrap around him, squeezing slightly as if it were hugging him.

The doctor need not turn around for he knew exactly what was around him. The idea brings a hint of a smile to his face before it's buried again.

Feeling weakened and numb, Stephen makes it the few feet to his bed and plops down unceremoniously onto his back, his hand falling somewhere to the side of his body with the picture frame still in hand and his faithful cloak still clutching him softly.

Why does this have to be so hard.

Strange began to speak. "She would have loved you."

The cloak lifted its collar as if listening more intently. Strange wondered how the cloak had so easily maneuvered to his chest when it was crushed beneath him, but he supposed his body was almost weightless to a mystical artifact. He knew the cloak was undoubtedly more comfortable on his warm chest, so he should have expected the change.

Stephen couldn't complain though. What was taken from him body-heat wise was always given back in a symbiotic relationship kind of way. Plus, it wasn't exactly unpleasant to have the weighty and warm garment draped over him. Especially today when he needed the most comfort, he was glad the cloak was giving it.

Seeing that it was rude not to continue, especially now that he had a captive audience, Strange continued his story. "Donna had always been fascinated with magical creatures and artifacts from storybooks and movies ever since she could talk. " Once when we were home alone, I saw her sitting on the floor- or what he thought was the floor until I got a closer look and caught a glimpse of the living room rug under her rump. Her eyes were closed and she was chanting something under her breath."

"I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it all, which my sister didn't like whatsoever. She called me mean names and locked herself in her room until our parents came home that night."

Strange frowned, but continued.

"At that time in my life, I hadn't exactly been an avid movie watcher, so I was puzzled by her very odd behavior until he looked up credible movies with magic rugs in them. When I found out about the Aladdin movie I tried my best to stifle every laugh whenever she would sit on that rug. But occasionally a few came out every once in a while and it made her mad at me again."

"When she was a teenager, I told her the same story I'm telling you. I expected her to get upset like she always did, but to my surprise, she spit out the chocolate milk she was drinking all over me and laughed for the longest time." _I miss her laugh_

Strange shut his eyes as more tears threatened to fall, but this action caused a few to inadvertently slip out and roll partly down his cheek. "I can't do this." _I can't think about her anymore._

The cloak looked on curiously at the tiny droplets of salt on its master's cheek. It didn't understand what tears were, it only sensed the emotion behind them. As such, the cloak's way of thinking was simple. Stephen was in distress and there were strange droplets leaking from his eyes. Not knowing of another cause to it's master's sadness, the cloak decided that those droplets were the cause. _They need to go away,_ the cloak thought.

The cloak lifted a part of itself and ever so gently rubbed it along Stephen's cheek to absorb the liquid.

This sensation got Strange to open his eyes and when he did, a genuine smile lit up his face.

He watched on until his face was completely dry and the cloak returned to its relaxed position on his chest. Well, at least, he had been expecting for it to do so, but instead of relaxing, the cloak was still oddly lifting its collar towards him.

Strange furrowed his brow. "You still want me to keep going, don't you?"

The cloak's only reply to this was to hover in place. But it told Strange all he needed.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. That's when another idea came to him.

"Oh, probably not good to meet her alone. She had a, well, fetish for… bedazzling things, " he said, amusement edging at his voice.

The cloak dropped its collar on his chest, almost as if it fainted.

Stephen laughed heartily and it warmed him up from the inside enough to smile again. They both knew that wearing a bedazzled cloak would mean unending teasing. Not to mention turn some heads in the outside world.

The remainder of the day was gladly filled with the laughter of Doctor Stephen Strange; whose heart was once again lightened and whose faithful companion was contentedly resting on a warm chest as happiness swelled throughout its being.

* * *

A/N: Be honest, did I make you misty? *sniff*


	13. Chapter 13: Sacrifice

**A/N: I don't even deserve to look at you, but I will say this: I have made this chapter super long for all of you in the frail hope that it will somehow-sorta-kinda make amends for my extreme, no Supreme tardiness. I would have made it 10,000 words long if I could, but alas; there was not enough material for this idea. Please accept this meager offering… for it was made with my blood, sweat, and tears.**

 **Previously:** _By this time, Stephen's condition had worsened. His forehead was soaking, breathing shallow, and his eyes were slightly red with dark circles formed under them._

 _Wong opened the bedroom door just as Stephen stepped through the portal, only catching a glimpse of the crimson cloak as the last sparks of the gateway dissipated in the air._

* * *

The Cloak Chapter 13: Sacrifice

~SS~

The reaction of the hospital was instantaneous.

Doctors and nurses alike rushed to their new patient that was dripping blood onto the clean white floors from his wounds. Some put pressure on his wounds, causing Strange to wince in pain while others went to go fetch a crash cart. It all happened so fast that Strange didn't know what was happening until he felt himself being lowered onto a bed. No, not a bed, a crash cart he decided.

He was moving now.

They wanted to take him to the emergency room. No, he could not go there. He had an alien poison in his system that would raise too many questions.

"No!" Strange shouted out, causing the doctors to freeze in their movements. He spoke calmer, wheezing as he did so. "I… want Christine, take me to her."

One of the doctors tried to reason with him. "You need emergency medical attention. You're ble—

"I am still your superior, doctor. Take me to Christine and she will help me," Strange bit out, his vision becoming blurry and the strength leaving him.

The doctor did not argue and turned the cart around, running the other way.

Stephen focused on the flash of hospital lights above him. They remind him of the sun flickering through trees as he jogged.

'Jogging' had not been his idea, but Wong's. The topic came up in a conversation oddly about Tai Chi. Strange had mentioned that he had never tried it before, but it looked boring. This of course made Wong glare at him and proceed to give him a lecture on Chakras and Chi and something else Strange did not remember. That was when the librarian thought of running, or jogging. He said it may help improve his flexibility and certain muscles to gain back their strength that were damaged during the accident. That was all Strange needed to hear, and since that day, he had been running ever since whenever he had the time.

Strange groaned as his arm flared with pain, and it cruelly brought him out of his memories. The room began to spin and his head pounded sickeningly. _Need to remain conscious… remain conscious…. remain…._

* * *

When Strange came back to conscious awareness, he gave himself a mental kick for passing out. He noticed he was in a solitary room designed for only one patient, but that didn't necessarily mean that he hadn't made a pit stop at the emergency room before then. Then again though, there were no doctors huddled around him poking and prodding him like an alien being, so for now, at least he was still human in their eyes at least. With that out of the way, Strange did a body check. He felt a little achy and weak, but also slightly itchy, mainly his back and arm being the worst. The tug of stitches told him everything he needed to know about his arm, but his back was another question. However, that would have to be examined later, for he had more important things to do.

Strange opened his eyes slowly, almost lethargically, and stared around blearily for the cloak. He found it floating near…

"Christine?"

The person is question came rushing to his side and a flash of red moved in front of her before settling on his chest, giving the human a hug the only way it knew how without arms and a body. The Cloak.

"The mysterious Stephen awakens," Christine said with a wry smile, feeling his forehead for a temperature. "See? I told you he would be fine."

Stephen thought he saw her talking to the Cloak, and blinked in surprise. "Did you just give it a reassurance?"

"I have had to move beyond logic and reason for the better part of a year now when dealing with you two. Talking to your… cape-"

"It's not a cape, it's a cloak," he corrected.

"Fine. But seriously, you know that talking to your cloak is not the strangest thing I've done. Besides, you should have seen how worried it was for you when you wouldn't wake up. I thought it was going to start crying to be honest." She grabbed something out of sight.

"Now, I know I'm not going to like the answer, but will you tell me how…" she held up a vial filled with something yellow and stringy floating in it and Stephen had to resist the urge to vomit. "This ended up inside one of your wounds?" she finished.

Strange thought for a moment. "Which wound?"

"The one on your back. Well, it's not really a wound. More accurately it's a really deep puncture. The puncture had become infected and when I drained it, this… stuff came out," she said, not really knowing what to call it. "I found more of it inside the wound on your leg."

"Some alien jabbed me with her blade as I was escaping their lab," Stephen said simply.

"I'm surprised anything surprises me anymore," she muttered. "But that alien nearly costed you your leg. The blade was poisoned."

Stephen nodded, giving the cloak a pat. "Figured as much. There was also a high does of blood thinners in my system, wasn't there?"

She nodded. "Yes, but how did it happen? I didn't think aliens had blood thinners."

"Apparently some do. They must have entered my bloodstream when they took a sample of my tissue with that strange device." Strange winced, remembering the incident in great detail. He could almost feel the pain again. Stephen felt the cloak stiffen under his fingers.

"It's alright, I'm fine now." He reassured it in a whisper, running his hand over its velvety surface.

As if to completely contradict his statement, the doors to the room suddenly burst open.

Stephen blinked blearily at the new visitor. "Wong?

The librarian didn't acknowledge him or anyone else, and even in his state Strange could tell something was severally wrong.

Wong spoke quickly, almost frantically as he approached. "After you left I started reading every book I could find on alien organisms. Then I found this." Wong held up the book that was flipped to some page and the doctor immediately paled.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes. It feeds by inserting a small sharp tube into the skin of its victims before it rips them apart and eats their organs. It's saliva can act as a blood thinner. Do you have any puncture wounds anywhere?"

"Y-Yes, on his back," Christine answered, barely able to speak. Maybe she could still be surprised, she thought.

Wong stepped forward and drew up Stephen's shirt around his shoulders. And then he saw it. There was indeed a puncture wound there and only a few millimeters wide, just as he feared. Wong stepped back and directed his attention to Christine. "How much blood has he lost?"

"Not too much, but the blood thickener I gave him should slow down the process."

Wong shook his head. "I wish I could agree, but unfortunately that will not happen. The creature I spoke of feeds off of a species that has very thick blood, thicker than anything on this earth and perhaps the entire galaxy. Stephen will die if he does not get the antidote."

"Which is why I am going to retrieve it," Wong finished.

Stephen nearly chocked on the water he was using to chase down the pills a nurse had handed him. "You are going to do what? Do you have any idea how much danger you would be putting yourself in? I barely escaped with my life the last time I challenged them. No, I will make the journey myself once this medication kicks in."

"You will do no such thing!" Christine cut in, crossing her arms. "You are not leaving this bed Stephen. Space travel or whatever you call it could kill you, not to mention fighting one of those…. those things."

Stephen shrugged. Two against one was hard to fight against, and with his waning strength he very much doubted he could even get out of bed, much less travel the galaxy. But Wong was the last person he wanted to take his place. The librarian did have experience fighting alien beings, but not so much alien creatures. Especially ones that were this dangerous.

"You are also the Sorcerer Supreme."

Stephen's train of thought was momentarily taken off the rails. No, don't do this Wong… don't say it.

"Your life is of greater value than mine."

Everyone paused at those words, especially Stephen, who honestly looked like a kicked puppy.

What was making Strange feel the worst was that he couldn't say it wasn't true. He knew that as soon as he became the Sorcerer Supreme that the mantle of the ancient one would descend and give him strength and power beyond imagining. It happened within an hour of her passing, and ever since, Strange knew that he must stay alive at almost any cost. His death would make the earth vulnerable to attack from anything until a new Sorcerer Supreme came to fill the gap. So with no contradictions to make, Stephen said the only thing that he could.

"Don't do this."

"I have to," Wong replied solemnly. Then his demeanor seemed to change and he stood up straighter, his eyes softening.

It is okay, I am not upset at the direction the scales were tipped. And unlike you, I have the use of my body. Let me do this for you," Wong pleaded.

"And in trying to save me you will likely get yourself killed. I know the kinds of enemies you have faced, and out there, they are the creatures of nightmare with untold abilities and strength. They could rip you apart with one blow."

"I was not always a librarian and you have not known me your whole life."

Stephen flinched at what he saw in those normally soft but powerful eyes.

You know of the Sanctums; structures built upon a strong foundation of mystical energies that exist through this world to shield it against the infinite threats that exist within the multiverse. However, what you don't know is that I existed before they were made. We alone held back the tide, and we alone built the Sanctum's when it was clear that we could not hold them back on our own any longer."

"So now you know. I have faced many enemies in battle and managed survived all this time. I will do so again, for you Stephen. For my friend."

Stephen was struck speechless. Not only had he just found out that Wong was very old and apparently protected the earth before Sanctums; Latin for Holy of Holies, even existed, but now he also knew that he was apparently the one that helped build them. To say his mind was blown would have been an understatement. The very fabric of his reality had been torn apart and then stitched back together with material he didn't recognize in the least and now he was just trying to take everything in. It was all a big crazy mess. And what had he called him? A friend? Had they really become that close? A warm feeling blossomed in his chest that told him he felt the same way, but he still was having trouble believing the Tai Chi loving Wong considered him as a friend. After all, they had nothing in common other than both being protectors of the world. He didn't get it.

"I… Be careful," Was all Stephen could bring himself to say.

"You can count on it," Wong said with a small smile.

"But you and me are going to have a long talk when you get back. I want to know everything you've been hiding from me." He paused for a moment, seeming to be deliberating something. "You don't by chance wear a toupee do you?"

Wong laughed heartily and shook his head. No, I assure you that this is my real hair." He gave it a strong tug and Stephen nodded, satisfied.

Stephen then directed his attention to his Cloak resting on his chest, and sighed. "You need to go with Wong now. I promise that a warm chest will be waiting for you when you return."

Stephen winced internally at how that sounded and tried not to look at the now sad faces staring at him. The cloak seemed to understand the urgency of his words, as it loosened itself from his torso before clinging tightly to him as if it would be the last time.

Stephen stroked it gently and whispered. "Please do everything in your power to protect him as if you were protecting me."

The cloak suddenly flew off of Strange and landed on the shoulders of a very confused Wong. It then proceeded to wrap itself around him.

"I am not in danger yet, you can let go!" Wong said, exasperation filling his voice.

The cloak released him, having conveyed all it wanted to his master and new master.

Stephen chuckled. "You'll get used to it." He noticed that the cloak looked more like a piece of clothing than a magical artifact on Wong, the train of it no longer undulating like an autumn breeze flowed through the room. This was puzzling.

The cloak, on the other hand, knew exactly why this was happening. It was simple, its master's magic and energy were no longer present because it had a new temporary master. The ancient magic and energy that flowed through Stephen's veins and entire being allowed the cloak to float effortlessly upon those currents, but now that it was no longer there the cloak was at the mercy of gravity. Though, it could still fly; that much wouldn't change unless the cloak wanted it to.

Wong set down the book he was holding and turned towards the hospital window. "Is that how I'm leaving?"

"Unless you want half the hospital to give you strange looks and call security, then yes. Is there something wrong Wong?"

Stephen stifled a chuckle, but then sobered when he saw Wong's peeved expression. "I promise that's the last time I will do it for at least a month."

Wong rolled his eyes and walked toward the window hesitantly. When he reached it he felt his heart thud more quickly in his chest.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of heights…"

Well yes, he was, but Stephen didn't need to know that. "I'm just getting used to the Cloak," Wong replied. If he could keep his calm and prevent himself from fainting he would be able to get away with that lie. Though, all of his confidence left him the moment he stepped out onto the ledge.

Wong careened backward against the window pane, clenching his eyes shut. "This is why they say to never look down," he berated himself. He felt the cloak wrap around him again, but this time he didn't protest, feeling a little comforted by its presence at that moment.

"You wouldn't let me fall, right?" he asked it.

The Cloak said nothing, just as he expected, but it did squeeze him a little tighter before letting go.

Wong opened his eyes and kept them looking straight ahead, inching himself further and further toward the edge. "Um how do I do this… do I just say, fly Cloak? No it can't be that simp-Ahhhhhhh!."

Wong continued to scream even though he was no longer falling, but eventually he realized this and calmed down, surveying his surroundings. He was floating hundreds of feet in the air, the sky scrapers and other building passing below his feet.

"How -d-does Stephen do this? I think I am going to be sick. Go slow, go slow," he told the cloak.

But the cloak could not.

Wong held his stomach as he was jettisoned through space and alternate dimensions at lightning speed, screaming the entire way.

...

But after a few seconds it stopped.

Wong let go of his stomach and breathed heavily. He spoke between wheezing breaths. "What was that back there?"

The cloak didn't reply.

Wong just took the time to explore his surroundings, and soon, he was slightly shocked by what he saw.

The coordinates that they had to travel to were well know by him, but he wondered if the cloak also knew where to go. After all, unlike Strange, his consciousness was not connected with the Cloak's, so verbal commands were the only way he could communicate with it. But he had said nothing, and still, there he was, surrounded by the very star system that matched the one they were heading to. That couldn't have been a coincidence, right?

Wong just shrugged it off and gathered himself before speaking more calmly. "We are here. Keep vigilant, those creatures could be anywhere."

Wong's breath was taken away when a nebula-like glowing mass drifted in front of him, obstructing his vision. It was a beautiful violet shade, sparkling and glowing with a light of its own in almost complete darkness.

Wong extended a finger and touched it, to which the mass seemed to ripple around it like it was made of liquid and his finger was the rain drop that temporarily destroyed its harmony. _Beautiful._

When he removed his hand it became still again, but he also noticed something else.

The stars were shining very brightly.

Their glow was brighter than any night sky he had ever seen, and would make it much easier to track those creatures. Speaking of which, by his calculations, they should have already been there.

Wong put his hand out in front of him and drifted further into the astral plane. A harsh movement of the cloak made him still.

Slowly turning behind him, Wong saw the battered remnant of an Arachnievods dead body, floating out into the endless abyss of space.

Clicking noises came from somewhere close in front of him.

Wong whipped around just in time to see 15 of those flying creatures coming towards him. He started muttering magical incantations and then his hands started to glow. One hand materialized a shield made of energy that enveloped his whole body and then re-joined the other hand, both humming from the power there, kept at the ready to strike down anything that came near with a powerful surge of energy.

"Leave one of them alive," he said before charging at them.

The creatures all swarmed him at once and Wong easily picked a few off, choosing to stick with the small surges of energy that disintegrated them. Then their tactics changed and they started to separate from one another, flying behind him or in front of him, but most choosing to attack from the sides where he couldn't see them very well. But the cloak handled those with ease before they even had a chance to bite him.

10 left.

Wong changed from small surges to larger blasts with a wider radius when they huddled together again, accidentally slamming his fist into one of them that came too close.

Wong cringed and pulled his hand out if its body, wiping the yellowish guts onto his pants. Disgusting.

Wong felled a few more that tried to swarm him.

5 left.

"Okay, I am going to kill the one we need. Destroy the others after I'm done," he directed the cloak.

Wong had his sights of one that was lethargically moving toward him, as if it were injured. Summoning a lethal

amount of power that was sure to keep the body intact, he struck it, immediately rendering it inert without so much as a screech of pain. Trying not to think about how its slimy body felt, Wong slipped it into a bag and tucked it somewhere where it wouldn't easily fall out.

Sparing a glance at the alien husks floating around him, Wong spoke.

"Let's go back home."

Here is the creature, Wong announced from the windowsill, holding up the bag.

"There you are!" Christine exclaimed when she saw them. Stephen passed out 20 minutes ago and I've been unable to do nothing but twiddle my thumbs… Is that?"

"Yes," Wong replied.

Christine put on her gloves and took the creature from his hands, unable to hold back a cringe as felt its layer of slime.

"…. So you say that the stuff we're looking for is located in its salivary glands. Where are those exactly?"

"On the top of its head." Oh, like a snake. Except it wasn't a snake, she corrected herself.

Christine grabbed the creature by its head and first searched for that tube-like thing she was told about. When she located it only the tip was sticking out of the soft pallet of its upper mouth, but that was enough. She pressed a spot gently on the top of its head and saliva came gushing out of the tube, fulling a jar that she had at the ready.

When she had about a teaspoon of the saliva, she handed it to Wong.

"Do you have a sample of his infected blood?" he asked her.

"Yes, I do have one." Christine handed it over to Wong who then proceeded to pour some of the contents of it, then the saliva into the jar, tightening the lid. Putting one of his hand on top and one on the bottom, Wong recited the incantation he had studied and learned by heart.

The fluid in the jar began to mix at an incredible speed.

When it was finished mixing Wong poured it into a vial and handed it to Christine, instructing her on how to administer it to him. She left to do just that, leaving them alone.

Wong gripped Stephen's hand. "Hold on a little longer." He stepped away when she returned, to give her the space she needed to work.

Christine held an IV bag filled with the special kind of fluid and hung it on the rack in the place of the other. Being careful but at the same time working fast, she connected the new one to the IV, twisting the top of it to secure it in place.

She watched as the liquid snaked down the tub until it reached the injection site and Stephen's bloodstream. She turned around.

"I've done everything I can. It's up to Stephen now," she said solemnly but hopefully.

* * *

Christine brushed a few strand of hair behind her ear and glanced up at the monitor again.

Stephen's vitals had been leveling for several hours now and were now almost normal, but still he showed no signs of waking. As expected the cloak had spent that time resting on his chest or hovering near his bed, and Wong and Christine currently sat side by side in two chairs pushed up next to the bed and had not stirred except for bodily reasons. But one of them would always return quickly and inquire from the other about any changes.

But aside from a slight change in heartrate, there was always nothing to report.

"Did you see that?"

Christine spared a glance to the librarian. "See what? Do you see something!" She said more excitedly.

"Look at his fingers."

Christine kept her eyes glued to them for several minutes. and she jumped out of her chair, taking Stephen's hand in hers. She waited.

It was the faintest of movements, but she felt Strange's hand contract about her own. Her breath hitched, but then all was still again. "Stephen, can you hear me?"

More movement. "If you can hear me I need you to wake up, Stephen."

"Don't make me put on Beyoncé," Wong added. Christine looked confused, but didn't ask questions.

The cloak that was hovering near them tenderly stroked Stephen's cheek, doing the only thing it could to try to coax the doctor to consciousness.

"I told you that if you did that again I was going to build my own Sanctum somewhere."

The cloak was the first to greet its master.

"Clo..ak- I can't… breath…"

"Stephen!" Christine cried, cupping his face as his strikingly blue eyes met hers. She frowned. "You really scared me this time. Us."

I did not risk my life just so you could die, Wong said brokenly, but his tone sounded relieved.

Stephen took in everyone's expressions and postures. Wong was a little slumped over, holding his hand in a vice- like grip and was staring at him with a hard to place expression. Christine honestly looked like she was going to either burst into tears or strangle him in a hug, and the cloak, well it seemed perfectly content on slowly squeezing him to death at the moment.

Stephen's mouth felt dry suddenly, and his voice came out in more of a raspy croak. "I know."

Strange folded his arms around Christine as she apparently chose a long hug was the way to go. "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly, rubbing her back.

Christine pulled away and wiped her moist eyes. She handed Stephen a glass of water, which he drank slowly before handing it back. "Thank you."

"Promise me that you will… try to keep that from happening again."

Strange thought about the way she worded it and then decided that it would be a promise that he could keep. That was the point, after all. "I promise," he replied.

She gave him a soft smile.

Wong moved to the other side of the bed and grabbed hold of Stephen's other hand, causing the doctor to focus on him. "It is good to see you alive, my friend."

Stephen returned the smile. "Likewise." He looked thoughtful. "So does that mean it worked? Am I cured?"

"If it did not, you would be dead right now," Wong said, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

Christine spoke. "A solution of your contaminated blood mixed with that.. things saliva made them cancel each other out and reverse the damage done to your body."

"Ah, I was wondering why my blood was the color of dirt," he said, holding the IV tub in his fingers.

She nodded.

Stephen turned his attention to Wong, or more like snapped his head quickly in his direction. "Then that means you really battled carnivorous aliens… For me." Still having trouble believing the whole _friend_ thing.

"Yes."

Stephen's lips curled in amusement. "So how was it being the Sorcerer Supreme for a day?"

"Terrifying."

They all laughed, Stephen the hardest because he fully understood what he meant.

"Wong, when I get out of this bed I would be happy to do some Tai chi with you," Strange said.

Everyone looked surprised at that, most of all Wong.

"Are you serious?"

"I am. After all that you've done for me, the least I can do is do some Tai Chi with you."

"But you said it was boring," Wong retorted.

"I didn't give it a chance. Given some time I think I may grow to like it."

"You will listen this time?"

Strange nodded. "Demonstrate every technique to me so I can commit it to memory and then we can both do some Tai Chi later," Strange added, sincerity shining in his eyes.

Wong still looked surprised, but nodded. "Very well."

Christine sat down in her chair again, eager to watch.

Wong began to speak. "Tai Chi is about harnessing the energy of your body and learning to control its power. For the energy to flow properly, you need to be standing."

"First I will teach you a position called Snake Creeps Down."

Stephen chose a short moment when Wong had his attentions elsewhere, and then turned his attention to the cloak. He ran his hand over it, delighting in how it fluttered happily under his fingers.

"Thank you," he said gently, only loud enough for the cloak alone to hear.

* * *

 **A/N: I have decided that no sections of this story will be a trilogy, so no more three-chapter-long ideas. They are exhausting to write. Instead, I have decided to put those good ideas you guys gave me, to some use. I won't say what it is, but I will say that Stephen is about to feel more pain and not of the alien kind ;) Thank you for reading and for being the most awesomepossumest (Yeah, I know, another fake word. Just roll with it.) readers a writer could ask for! *heart emoji* I will do my very best to update next week, but two weeks at the latest. This I promise you.**

 **Fun Fact: When I was writing the hospital scene with Wong standing on the ledge, I was picturing him saying: "Fly carpet! Fly!" from the Thief of Bagdad. XD Love that movie!**


	14. Chapter 14: In Need

**(Please skip to the last paragraph if you are in a hurry or just want to in general). You have heard it said countless times, but I am once again very sorry that I have kept you all waiting for so long. And I feel even worse that I broke my promise to you on updating that week or the next. Once again, math midterms and finals took up the majority of my time, along with a virtual stock market that I had to code as a final project for my Java class. Yes, you heard me right. I coded a virtual stock market over the course of 15 weeks. *wipes nonexistent sweat off brow***

 **Anyway, I wanted you all to have a new update this Christmas, so I have spent the entire night of the Eve to get this chapter polished and ready enough for you. I hope it lives up to your expectations, especially you, my wonderful guest reader who gave me the plot idea. Merry Christmas to you all!**

* * *

Chapter 14: In Need

~SS~

In the stillness of the night, the only sound present was the gentle inhalations and exhalations of breath.

But then something changed. Another sound, brisk and shrill broke the peace and calm like shattering glass in a cemetery. Stephen Strange had whimpered.

The ancient artifact felt, more than heard the sound. Almost like an alarm had been set off within its being. The artifact hovered nearer to the human sleeping on the bed below and did its best to search out the cause of such discomfort. When it was satisfied his body was unharmed, the cloak began to scour his mind.

At first, it saw nothing, but then slowly, easing its consciousness in deeper, it began to see something that made its very being shudder with dread and guilt. Strange was strapped to a very familiar table, while an alien; the same alien that was forever etched into its cosmic memory, hovered over him. In the alien's hand lied a knife that was already slightly buried in the skin of his scalp and cutting deeper. A scream echoed within its consciousness as it fled its masters.

With little care about being gentle, only to wake, the cloak smacked its master across the face hard. But not hard enough to propel him off the bed.

Stephen awoke gasping, his body drenched in sweat. With shaking hands he examined his head and then sighed heavily, relieved it had all been a bad dream. Strange's brow furrowed slightly and he touched his cheek, wincing at the slight sting of pain it caused.

Strange turned toward the cloak in disbelief. "Did you slap my face?"

Stephen could have sworn the cloak looked like a guilty puppy just then, but it was too dark to really see anything. Besides, Stephen realized that the slight stinging of his right cheek wasn't the only pain he was feeling. Stephen could make out his hands in the small patch of moonlight that shone down from the window above him and he noticed that the muscles and tenons were much more stressed than they normally were, making his bones much more prominent. Experimentally, Stephen clenched them. It turned out to be a bad idea though.

It felt as though fire was consuming his flesh, and Strange screamed in pure pain, his head falling back against the pillow. Fortunately, he had conjured a mirror dimension before going to sleep that night or he most likely would have woken up the whole Sanctum.

The mirror dimension was put into use when Strange's night terrors and nightmares became too frequent. When it was active, the dimension would stop any noise or action from breaching its barrier to the outside world. but the dimension itself could be easily broken with a single thought should an enemy infiltrate his room.

"No, don't," Stephen told the cloak as it was about to touch his hand. He honestly didn't know if the slightest touch would be painful, but Stephen did not want to find out. The cloak pulled away, but looked akin to a human who was utterly confused about something, shifting its attention between each hand like it was malfunctioning.

Strange saw this, but he didn't understand why it was happening. To his credit though, it took him only two minutes to figure out. Not bad for being half asleep, he thought.

"You don't know why my hands hurt, do you?" he asked.

The cloak stayed stock still in what Stephen knew was a no.

"Do you want me to tell you?"

The cloak bent at the collar in a nod.

Strange cleared his throat, but the disuse sound was still present. "It happened before I knew you or Wong or the Sanctum, or even that magic existed."

"You see, before I came here I was a doctor. A medical doctor that healed people by cutting them open. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but that is how a surgeon operates.

I was at the top of my field, the best in my craft. But I became more concerned about fame and my reputation more than I did about helping people. You could say that my ego grew to the size of my huge reputation and I lost sight of everything that was truly important in my life, including obeying the speed limit. I raced to every destination in one of the most expensive cars in the world, because at that point in my life I felt like normal rules didn't apply to me. That I was above them all; especially the dregs of society I whizzed by. The thought of scratching my car or hitting other cars wasn't a possibility in my mind because I truly believed it wasn't possible for me to ever make a mistake.

But it was. All it took was a second of ill-attention and my car flipped off the cliff with me inside it. My hands were torn apart in the crash, and I was soon told that I would never be able to operate again. I spent all I had on operations that did nothing to fix me, so I did the only thing I could do and spent my last penny on a ticket to Nepal. That's when I met the ancient one and well…this whole crazy journey began."

Stephen chuckled and then coughed as it irritated his throat. Very gently, Stephen lowered his hand that he had instinctively picked up in order to cover his mouth. "And that is my story. Well, the beginning anyway." He smiled wistfully despite the pain, and turned to the cloak. "If only Wong was as good a listener as you. He still thinks he can buy things at the market for rupees."

The cloak hovered in place, giving no indication that it understood what Strange was talking about.

"Never mind, It was just an example." Stephen sat up and crossed his legs in a meditative style before shutting his eyes.

Concentrating on the energy flowing within his body, Strange followed the streams until he made it to his arm and then wrist. What possibility there was of the energy being blocked from entering his hands, was disproved when he felt the strong current flowing through every vein, seeping into every bone, muscle, and tendon. But if the energy was present there, then why did he feel the pain of his injury again? Was it too strong for even his magic to take away?

Stephen shook his head and sighed. He supposed he would have to go back the herbal tea regime for a while. But it could wait till tomorrow. After all, if it was excruciating just closing his hands, it must be nearly impossible to hold or lift anything with them.

With tea off the table for the night, Stephen settled back down on his pillow and held his hands in front of him in the moonlight. Stephen took in a breath, dreading what he was about to do. But he had to find where his energy was being blocked or his hands would continue to hurt. Very slowly, he ran a finger over the muscles and bone, applying moderate pressure in order to feel the current of energy flowing under his fingertips. The severity of the pain brought tears to his eyes, but he bit his lip to keep from crying out as he continued the process on both hands until he was panting.

Stephen flinched when he felt velvety fabric brush against his hand. He looked to the side to find the cloak...tending to him.

With his hands resting on his stomach, the cloak had access to both and was brushing itself across them in what appeared to be an effort to sooth his pain. Oddly enough, the actions of the cloak elicited no pain, as he had feared, but felt almost healing, as if his magic was surging through him and taking all the pain. The only thing Strange could surmise was that the Cloak was either probably in touch with his magic at that moment and was directing it where it needed to go, or that the Cloak was using its own magic. Given his studies on his artifact, Strange knew that both were possible.

"I'm sorry I told you not to touch me, if I had known it would feel like this I would have let you," Stephen murmured.

The cloak didn't seem acknowledge his words, seeming to be in too deep of concentration to hear him. But there was something more Strange needed to say before he accepted the pull of sleep that was tugging at his lids.

"Listen, I know you feel responsible for what happened to me on that planet."

The cloak tipped down its collar, as if in shame.

"But you need to know that it isn't your fault. I would have died from those stupid alien flies if you hadn't intervened and took us to that planet nearby. And toward the end, we were both unable to break our bonds." Strange shook his head, frustrated that the right words wouldn't come to his mind.

"What I am saying is that I don't blame you for any of it and I know that if you were able you would have flown us out of there faster than a blink. You are an excellent protector that has saved my life too many times to count, and it is because of you that I am alive right now."

Stephen expected the cloak to flutter happily and do summersaults through the air. But the artifact did something else entirely.

A small glow started to emanate from the cloak, brightening to the point where it lit up the dark room. Stephen could see the light dancing off the red material, making the churning energy on its surface appear like the strong currents of an ocean.

And then Strange felt it.

The relief of the feeling could have been compared to submerging icy cold hands into warm water, for it was both painful and good at the same time as the cloak's healing energy seeped into his hands, making them feel like new again.

"Well, I guess I wasn't the only one who has been magically stunted," Strange said with a gasp. "Feel better?"

The cloak inclined its collar, giving a little flutter.

"That's good. I feel better too," Strange said with a smile, before it broke away into a yawn. He stared out the dark window for a moment before returning his gaze to the cloak.

"I think it is time I get back to sleep. We have another day of defending the world tomorrow."

The cloak did a twirl, making Stephen chuckle as he laid back against his pillow. But before he drifted off, he felt the cloak brushing itself softly across his hands again.

Stephen secretly smiled and breathed in deeply, focusing on the relaxing motions, letting them lull him back to sleep.

* * *

 **I wish I had my own mirror dimension. I've been told I can be a vocal sleeper when it comes to nightmares XD But honestly, I'm sure many of you think that having a place where sound never reaches the outside world would be kinda neat. Right?**


End file.
